The Inevitable
by Kamkats
Summary: When Andy is injured in a cattle drive accident, Slim takes some time to reflect on his anger about the incident. Meanwhile, Jess is healing from the wounds left by a friend's betrayal, and contemplates forgiveness with the help of a stranger.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Little story I wrote last year. I have three years worth of stories (hundreds of them) piling up and this is the first one I've decided to post. Got a lot of feedback about the formatting and did my best to redo it. It's not indented the way I would like, but it has been broken up into more readable chunks. Guest reviews are moderated and I reserve the right to censor and/or delete any comments I deem inappropriate and/or do not meet the standards of FFnet. Please be civil and constructive. Thank you!_

He doesn't eat well. He refuses to go outside on his own. I can't get him to do anything. All he does is sit in that chair all day and stare out the window. His gaze is unreadable and steady. Sometimes he'll pull up a book to read, but his eyes linger in the same page, seeing, but not thinking. Reading, but not understanding. When I dress him and put him to bed, I go back to the living room to put his book away, and when I look at it, I can see the wrinkled pages, stained with silent tears. He doesn't talk much anymore. I wish he would. I have entire conversations with him but it's like talking to a goddamn brick wall.

There's so much I want to say, but I don't know how. He'll never know how worried I was that night on the drive. He's lucky he's alive after what he went through. I know he thinks it's terrible that he can't walk, but why can't he be grateful for the life God gave him? It's not like I'm particularly happy about having a handicapped brother to look after, but the least he could do is show some appreciation. No, instead he mopes around like a damp piece of clothing, thinking about his loss. I know he thinks about Jess leaving. Sometimes I wonder if he knows why? I'm sure Jonesy or one of the others told him how I shot my own friend.

He's no friend of mine. I can't find it in my heart to forgive him. Whenever I see my brother like that, unable to walk or stand on his own, unable to rope and ride, my emotions bubble up and I hate the man. He was so close to saving him...it seems so impossible that he could have failed. And I blame him. I blame him for our troubles. He wasn't even sorry. He didn't even help me rescue Andy. What kind of man was Jess? An ex con for one, a gunslick... My friend.

No, no more. Those days are gone. He left, and if I know him, he's not coming back. A man like him takes bein shot rather personally. I thought for the first two weeks that he'd come riding down that road, all smug and indifferent, but he hasn't shown his face. I don't know how I feel about that. It's been over a year and a half now. I count the days, for some reason. I feel like I'm friends with a ghost. Hating the haunting but needing the company. The memory. I wrote a couple of notes, one in sorrow, one in anger. They're both lying dusty in my drawer. They speak louder than my voice, louder than any words I could utter, but I can't read them to anyone or myself. Because they're incriminating.

They state me as a man coinciding with everything he wants to stand for. They speak of a man who talks of second chances, but is nothing but a hypocrite. He lets his emotions rule him, he lets grudges drive him. A man who lives like that, isn't living, but merely existing. I think of these notes whenever I see Andy. I think of how rotten I am to be so mad about him. So mad that he's so damn helpless and that I need someone to blame. So mad that I let myself ruin a friendship and hurt my little brother. I know he'd handle it better if his best friend was here to help him cope, but his wounds go deeper, into his soul, where he's letting them fester. I can hardly hold it against him.

I'm the big bad brother. I'm at the point where I'm numb with the pain of everything. I just can't feel happiness anymore. I can only feel bitterness. It's infecting Andy and I know because he's so somber. I looked in on him the other night and I saw him crying. Staring up at the ceiling, unblinking. Tears, warm and quiet, rolling from the edges of his eyes and into his ears. He sat like that until he was too tired and rolled over in the covers. I wanted to curl up next to him and reassure him that everything would be fine. How can I? What can I say to him that will make everything alright again?

The doctor said he'd never walk again.

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Trying to get these updates out once a week! You guys reading this makes the effort totally worth it. I know it may not be your cup of tea, but I appreciate your feedback, it helps me to know what's good and what isn't. I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing and you deliver. :)

A clap of thunder wakes me up, and I raise my head from the covers. Rain patters onto the window and slowly runs down to the frame, each drop racing the other. I listen for awhile and rest my weary head back onto the pillow. It's chilly in the room, and for a moment I think the bed is empty, and I feel utterly alone. I turn my head and see the covered mound next to me, sides rising and falling with each gentle breath. Why is she still here? I honestly don't know what happened the night prior and I don't know what time it is. It's too cloudy out for me to determine the hour, but I feel like I've been sleeping for three full days, even though I know that's not the case.

With a sigh, I throw my weakened legs over the side of the bed, yanking the covers off as I do so. A brief groan sounds behind me and the covers are snatched back. I sit up and stare at the empty floor, knowing I need to get dressed, but not having the motivation.

What day is it? All the days seem to just meld into one, unending, repetitive cycle. I lost my job the other day, showing up late too many times I guess. Who cares, anyway?

I stand up and walk over to the dresser, grabbing my wrinkled shirt off the floor as I go. I fill the basin on the dresser with cool water from a jug and wash my face, the cold water making me more alert. Shaking my head, I stand up straight and spot my reflection in the mirror. What have I become? Why is seeing my own face such a bitter reminder of everything that's wrong with my life? I hate myself, I hate the way I look, my habits, my own voice. I'm a wreck, there's no denying it.

I slam my hands down on the dresser and exhale. My left hand instantly stings and I stare down at my palm, seeing the ugly scar stretched out across it. The bullet wound that left my hand almost unusable. I didn't do anything to deserve it, all I ever did was try to help. Slim did this to me. I don't know why…Maybe he lost it, maybe he misunderstood my intentions, maybe he was just too upset to try and understand what really happened; I sure didn't stick around to learn him the facts. I had reached my breaking point. He always thought my breaking point was either non existent or temporary. That I'd get pissed and stay in town until I had sorted out my feelings, like some moody housewife. Or that I could never get mad enough to ever seriously contemplate leaving. I'll admit, I left enough times, but I always came back with my tail between my legs, wondering why I was so stupid. They say anger is temporary, but I've been mad since the day I left.

Why shouldn't I be? My best friend shot me. Trust me, I could've forgiven him that offense if it was a wrongdoing on its own merit, but it was the straw that broke the camel's back. I had taken months of his bullshit, and I thought I'd sort through it and everything would be alright again, but so much had happened up to that point. We both completely lost it like a couple of angry lovers, and looking back on it, maybe it was silly. Although, sometimes I think of Slim and wonder if he still hates me. He told me to leave, that I was no longer welcome. I never, ever thought that I would hear him say those words, especially to me. We were like brothers, like family; family don't turn on each other. Guess I wore out my welcome. The way I figure it, it had to happen eventually. I'd always been a drifter, but I thought I had found my home. I'd been kicked around since the day I was born and then this…this. The ultimate betrayal of trust, friendship, understanding. All out the window with no hope of redemption. It was so unlike him to act like that, but I think he meant it when he told me it was my fault I killed Andy.

I open the dresser drawer and see the yellow bandanna I snagged from that day. It was the only thing I had left of Andy, a reminder of his horrific last moments. I was too slow, I killed him. I didn't mean too, Slim knew that. He was one of the most forgiving people in the world, why did he go off his rudder? I had never seen him so mad before.

I saw him, holding Andy's broken, lifeless body in his arms. God, I wish I was dead. I killed a thirteen year old boy and the only way I can sleep at night without his grisly death replaying in my mind, is to go on one of my alcohol induced hazes.

I'm a nobody, maybe when I was a gunslick I was someone, but those days are over. Right now, I'm a broke, depressed, drunk excuse for a man.

"You can't be serious," A voice sounds behind me. I whip my head from the mirror and see the girl from last night throwing my empty wallet on the bed.

"You are unbelievable, you really are. Good job telling me you're broke."

I cringe, "Yeah about that-"

"You were throwing money around last night like there was no tomorrow and you're telling me you're broke?"

"I lost the rest of it in a poker game last night."

She groans and stands akimbo, giving me the death glare. I ignore her and continue dressing. When I'm done, I grab my hat and stuff Andy's bandanna in my pocket, heading for the door. The girl rushes past me and yanks my six shooter out of its holster and dangles it in the air like it's some kind of prize.

"This will suffice as payment for my services," she chirped, blocking the door.

Aw, hell no! That was my specialty fighting pistol. No one would take that from me, especially not a two-bit saloon whore. I felt a little guilty about not being able to pay her, but I was desperate.

"You can't have that," I said in a warning tone.

"I can so, and if you dare take it from me, I'll tell the sheriff you raped me." she said, raising her chin in defiance.

"Yeah well, good luck with that sweetie. No one will ever believe you. So go ahead and get the sheriff over here, I don't care." I replied, slowly walking over to her and snatching the pistol back from her. I felt like the lowest scum of the earth, saying stuff like that to a girl that was about as down on her luck as I was, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.

I proceeded to open the window and crawl out onto the roof, sliding down the shingles and preparing to jump. I was still pretty hung over, and the ground kept moving, like waves in the ocean. Only, I knew that if I landed wrong, I'd probably kill myself, but then again, no great loss there. The shingles were slick with the oncoming rain, and it kept pounding on me, relentlessly, determined to see me fail.

I saw my horse tied to the hitching post below me and I grinned, knowing I'd land perfectly in that saddle.

"That's right, kill yourself you trail bum!" the girl shrieks, slamming the window shut. The commotion startles me and I fall forward, unprepared for the landing.

I missed the horse completely and landed face flat in the mud in the street below. I laid there momentarily, my head feeling like it was about to explode. I push myself to my knees and then feel someone yank me backwards by my shirt collar.

"There you are, you bastard!" A gruff voice snarls. My nostrils are greeted with a rather foul stench and I turn my head to the side to see a big burly man sneering at me while refusing to unhand me. His clothing and features were reminiscent of the Sioux, but I couldn't be sure.

I roll my eyes and shake my head with what little strength I have.

"Now just what in the hell do you want? You took me for all I had last night, wasn't that good enough for you?"

"You still owe me," A higher-pitched voice chimes in. A petite man walks into my field of vision, and I find myself looking up at him. He's very well dressed and his grin is painfully fake, his pearly white teeth glinting as a flash of lightning strikes nearby. If my memory serves me well, I believe this man to be called Seth Collins; gambling man, professional tinhorn.

I wince as rain continues to bounce off my face and get into my eyes.

"I owe ya nothing'!" I argue.

His green eyes narrow and his smile fades into a scowl. "That's where you're wrong, pally," he hisses.

I feel myself being dragged backwards into an alley and I instantly realize that this is going to get messy. My boot heels drag through the mud and at this point, I'm sopping wet and my hair is in my face.

I'm shoved against the side of a building in the alley and the burly man holds me up, my legs too weak for me to stand.

"You still owe us $500!" Collins growled.

I looked at him, utterly exhausted. "I don't have the money right now!" I rasped, trying to make myself heard over the raging storm.

"Where's the damn money?" he agitated.

"I left it on your mother's dresser!" I spit; Childish and ineffective on my part.

Another flash of lightning and I'm met with the burly man's fist, right in my gut.

"Well," Collins replied, "Now that's just too bad in't it? You should've saved it for us."

Strike after strike, from the face back to my stomach, it's all just too much.

"Who shoved the totem pole up your ass, inbred sonuva-"

Before I can finish, I'm socked again.

I don't even know who's throwing the punches, I just know it hurts like hell. My arms flail vainly as I try my best to fight back. I don't care how hung over I am, I will never, ever go down without a fight.

Despite my sincerest efforts, the punches keep coming, almost in time with the thunder and lightning. Rain blurs my vision, along with the blood that is now streaming down my forehead and into my eyes. My outstretched fingertips don't even graze him, they grapple blindly at the air as I grow increasingly frustrated.

"Why don't you just kill me?" I grumble at the men, as I slowly slide down the wall and into the mud. I try to get back on my feet, but I'm promptly kicked over.

"And make it easy for you?" The little man sneered, "No way José."

"You'll just have to die on your own sweet time,"

My head is in the muck and I see their boots walking away from me. I see my chance and yank out my gun, aiming it at them. I would shoot the bastards in the back, but I'm not that low yet.

"Collins," I shout, "Draw!"

He turns around and shoots my way, my gun clicks and there's no bullet. I hear his bullet rush by my ear and he laughs.

"You've lost your touch, Harper," he cackles.

"So have you," I retort.

Apparently, he can't take a smart remark, so once again I'm swiftly kicked in the jaw and everything goes momentarily black as my head connects with the ground.

Blood, so much blood. Whose is it? Where is it coming from? Blood, mixed in with mud, all a blur now. It's in my nose, in my mouth, I'm covered in the mixture. My head hurts, my stomach, my arms, my legs…everything hurts. I'm dizzy, fading, the edges of my vision turn into black spots and I let my swollen eyes close, just for a second.

How did I let this happen? Everything that got me to this point was a mistake. I never should've let this happen to me. I'm miserable, lost, aching.

I want to go home, but I don't have one. I know why I had to leave, I miss it, and I just wish I could back. However, I cringe whenever I think about it. I was told I don't belong there.

I want to believe that, but I feel myself being called back. I want to go back, back to when I could ride in and actually get the familiar sensation every time that that was my one true oasis. I thought I'd ride home and be welcomed back like an old friend, but I don't reckon that's what would've gone down. How can I show my face there ever again? I'm just as good as a murder. Running, like a coward, running away from my problems and still tumbling right back into trouble. If I live to see the morning light, I will go back.

Even if it's not for keeps, I just need the closure. If I can see Andy's grave, pay my respects, look at the ranch and leave, I'll be fine.

 _I'll be fine…_

I keep repeating that phrase in my head as I finally succumb to the dizzying blackness.

A/N: Bear in mind that Andy is not dead, in case you were scared. POVs can be confusing, I know.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: So wow, this has got to be one of the most depressing stories I've written yet, lol. I've done a lot of revising, when you let a story sit, you start to hate it, so I have to update it before I change my mind again. Be sure to stick around to see how all these problems get resolved and if they do!_

 _Anyhow, I don't know if I was clear on what reviews I deem as inappropriate, for anybody concerned about that. If I take down a review, it is for a few reasons: 1) it qualified as hate speech (I.e., personal attacks against the author or against certain groups/people) 2) it was irrelevant 3) it contained excessive swearing._

 _If you don't see your review posted, please bear in mind that sometimes I don't have time to moderate all the guest reviews that come in, so it'll be approximately 36 hours before your review will be available to read. Thanks for your time! J_

It sure is draining to be taking on so many chores at once; hangin' the laundry, feedin' the chickens, takin' care of the horses, mending the fences. One would think I was too old for this kinda stuff, but it's been like this for awhile. I'm pretty well used to it, all of Jess's chores gettn' dumped on me. Ol' Slim hasn't even mentioned hiring on any help, although Lord knows we need it. He's the most stubborn man I've ever met. He's been acting more like a grown up kid, lately. Moody, selfish, belligerent, and lastly, as much as I hate to say it, drunk. He's taken to the creature like a fish to water and he hasn't shown any signs of stoppn'. He's sober during the day hours, but I reckon the only way he can get a good night's rest is to make it to the bottom of a whiskey bottle. It's a darn shame, but I don't know what to do to remedy his problem. I know Matt Sherman could be just as bad when he was troubled, but he had enough sense to know his family came first. Is anything really worth getting so out of it that you can't even stand on your own two feet? Someone's gotta do somethin or there'll be consequences.

"Jonesy?" Andy calls me from the living room.

I put down the pot I'm washing, quickly dry my hands, and make my way to the living room.

"What canneye do fer ya, Andy?"

Andy bites his lip and glances down at his book. "Do you think that maybe you could-if it's not too much trouble anyway-well…"

"Well, what?" I prod. Poor kid hates askin' for things because he feels like he doesn't deserve it.

"Well, I kinda wanted to go for a ride today," he starts, "Would it be too much trouble for you to take me out on the buckboard later, I mean, you don't have to-"

"It's no trouble at all, Andy," I assure him, gently putting my hand on his arm. Andy'll only let me take him outside, or for wagon rides; he doesn't want anything to do with Slim anymore, just plain out cut him off. Another chore for me, I suppose... but I don't like thinking of spending time with Andy as a chore, he's a real good kid, he only deserves the best and this is the least I can do.

"I could sure go for some fresh air as well, so we'll be killin' two birds with one stone," I add.

He looks at me and smiles happily, but his eyes still convey his sadness. I bet he'd give his eyetooth to be able to get up on a horse just one more time. I bet Cyclone would like it too. Surprisingly enough, Slim hasn't gotten rid of that palomino. Poor creature hasn't been ridden in a coon's age, but he perks right up when I take Andy outside to visit him. I hope one of these days we can jury-rig it so the kid can take a ride. Maybe hitch up some type of chair-like saddle. I reckon we could train the horse to respond to arm movements instead of leg cues, that'd be-

The front door suddenly swings open and Slim walks in, throwing his hat on the chair next to the window and hanging his saddle bags up on the coat hooks.

"You mend the north section today, Jonesy?" he asks me.

"I surely did, almost-" I was gonna complain about how bad my back ached after doin' it, but I figure it would only put him in a worse mood.

"Almost what?" Slim sighs, not looking at me as he heads towards the kitchen.

"Almost got bit by snake, but I don't reckon it was poisonous," I lie.

"Mhm," Slim grunts, "Be more careful, we don't need another cripple aro-" he stops himself, but the damage has been done. Why is he so insensitive?

Andy winces, and Slim looks at his brother, slumped in the chair and sighs again.

"Andy, I.." He struggles with his apology, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it.."

"It's okay," Andy says, trying to be optimistic, but I can hear the tremble in his voice.

Slim hears it too and his face falls even more. He yanks off his gloves and throws them carelessly aside, angry with his own slipup.

Slim goes to his desk and flops down in his chair, grabbing a pen and paper and writing God knows what. Andy goes back to reading his book and figure it's time for me to finish the dishes. Before I can get up, I hear the sound of hoof beats making their way up to the house. I know it's not the stage, it's not time yet. Slim doesn't even look up, but I know he can hear the sound of footsteps on the porch.

I go for the door, but it swings open and almost catches me in the nose.

Here she is, the black-haired beauty that Slim always talks about, Ruth Cornell. Her petite frame stands akimbo, her dark eyes glaring at him. She scowls and slams the door behind her.

"Sorry Jonesy," Ruth apologizes curtly, turning to me.

She then proceeds to rush over to Slim and stand above him, her arms crossed.

" _Thank you so much_ for leaving me at the dance last night, you're a true gentleman," she said sarcastically, "Oh, and I can't express my gratitude for you fighting over me with Connor Perkins, _such decency_ on your part."

Slim put his pen down and exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair and looking up at her.

"I know…I shouldn't'a done that to ya…I'm sorry."

"I just don't know what's gotten into you," Ruth went on, tossing her arms up into the air and talking a few steps away, "you've been so noncommittal lately, my father thinks you're going to leave me."

She pauses for a moment and turns around to look Slim in the eye. "You aren't, are you?" she asks.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not right today…" Slim trails off, "I can't talk about this right now."

"Why did you leave?" Ruth demands, her voice growing exceedingly more impatient.

"I lost my temper, that's why!" Slim matched her tone.

"Like you are now?"

"Because you're pushing me over the edge. If it's not one thing it's another, I can't do this with you anymore!"

"So now I'm the problem?" Ruth cries shrilly.

Slim pushes his chair back aggressively and stands up, towering over the raven haired girl.

"Please Ruth, not in front of Andy!" he pleads.

Ruth scoffs, "Don't think I don't know how things work around here, Andy knows exactly what's been going on, don't act like he's stupid."

"He's not stupid, which is why I don't want to argue with you, not now. You think he doesn't have enough stress on his plate right now? There's no reason he needs to hear this!" Slim shoots back.

Ruth rolls her eyes, "Enough," she orders, "I asked you if I'm the problem!"

Slim shakes his head and pushes past her, resting his hand on the mantle of the fireplace.

"No! yes! I don't know! God, what do you want me to say?" he explains, "I can't handle a relationship with you, not now! I have responsibilities to tend to."

"We've been going steady for two years and you finally decide you can't do it? Are you telling me you wasted mine and everybody's time?" Ruth asks, now visibly outraged.

"Things are different now, I don't have time for you anymore." Slims replies, bringing his voice back down. Ruth points her chin downwards and looks up at him, her brow furrowed.

"That hurts, Slim."

"Yeah…so does having to care for a crippled brother," Slim mutters.

"Aha, so it's about Andy is it?" Ruth accusatorily remarks.

"What else?" Slim finally gives up.

Andy frowns and puts his book down, his fingers letting off the pages so they all cluster together again, his place in the text now lost, much like his gaze. For once in a long time, Slim is right; Andy doesn't need to hear this.

"Let's go give the lunch scraps to the chickens, why don't we?" I offer, hastily helping Andy into his wheelchair and pushing him outside, into the barnyard. I rush back into the house to grab the food scraps, and manage to catch a bit of the conversation continuing.

"You don't have to do this you know," Ruth says quietly, putting her hand on Slim's back.

"What choice do I have? Family don't abandon each other!" Slim argues.

"Oh? You mean like you forced Jess to do?" I interrupt. It's a bold move from me, I know, but maybe Slim needs to listen.

"I told you not to talk about that, it's over and done with." Slim says, his voice dropping to that monotone level, the one that could be interpreted as either utterly uninterested or extremely menacing.

"No it's not, because it's tearing you apart, and you know it," I snap back.

"It is not, the consequences of his actions is what's tearing me apart," Slim replies angrily, "I don't give a damn about Jess, he can burn."

"You don't mean that," Ruth says, stepping back again.

"And what would _you_ know?" Slim snorts.

"I know he loved you and Andy like you three were all brothers," Ruth starts, "You ruined him by driving him out, shooting him like an animal."

Slim whips around and glares at the both of us.

"I shot him because he's no better than an animal to me!" he shouts.

"You shot him because you lost your temper before you knew that Andy was alive!" I break in, "Jess left thinking he killed Andy and you never even tried to make it right! You're selfish, you think everything is about Jess, well let me tell you this, it's not. You're the only one to blame, Jess only ever tried to help and you let your anger get the best of you, and it's been getting the best of you ever since. Your actions are the ones that are putting Andy in so much misery, and until you face that fact he's never going to talk to you again!"

"I don't need to take this from you," Slim mumbles, his voice shaking with anger.

"You're right, you don't, but you're going to," I assure him, standing almost toe to toe with him.

"I'm going to spell it out for you," Slim lowers his voice again, trying once again to contain himself, "Jess crippled Andy."

"The heck he did," I spit

" _He pushed him_!" Slim yells, shoving me aside with his shoulder as he walks past and sits down on the fainting couch.

"He tried to help Andy! I was there, I saw what happened! You never listen," I exclaim, "You block everyone out and you've gotten it into your head that Jess purposely harmed Andy."

"You're an expert on everything, aren't you?" Slim sneers.

"I know what I saw, and what I saw was Jess grabbing Andy's neckerchief in an attempt to save his life, but Andy fell anyway."

"Wrong again."

"You're as stubborn as a darned mule, how hard is it for you to understand plain English?"

"I'm in a living hell because of his failure to do the right thing!" Slim raises his voice as high as he can get it and Ruth winces.

"You're in a living hell because you turned to rash judgment before trying to understand, and because you've been consumed by hate!" I say scornfully.

"Stop it, just-" I cut Slim off before he can end the discussion.

"It's all coming clear to you now, isn't it Slim? You realize your mistake and you're not man enough to own up to it."

"This is isn't about me," Slim growls.

"It surely is. You shot Jess and told him to get the hell out because you thought he had killed your brother. When you found out that he was only crippled, you still directed your anger into believing that Jess was in some way at fault. You needed something to hold onto, something to reassure you that you were justified in driving out the best thing that ever happened to this place. You've paid the price for your pride, it's destroyed you, it's turned you into a despicable mess, and it's destroyed Andy too. He can't even look you in the eye without seeing a monster. His life is ruined and he didn't even have the luxury of having his best friend help him through it. Instead, he had a detached, angry older brother carelessly slave to his needs, blaming everyone but himself for his current situation. You think Andy has it bad? Just think of the last year and half Jess has spent mentally killing himself. He left without knowing that Andy survived the accident. He heard you blame him, he heard the obscenities you spat at him, the bullet you fired at him. You betrayed him, and he probably thinks he's the worst human alive. He thinks he killed an innocent child, brother of his best friend. How can anyone live like that? And just think, it's all because of you."

I finish my deriding monologue and take a breath, looking at Slim's disgusted expression.

"Get out."

"The truth hurts, doesn't it Slim?" I yell at the top of my lungs.

"I get said _get out_! You're manipulating me! You're a liar!" Now he's hysterical, he doesn't want to believe. Maybe he is realizing how wrong he's been, and how much it's cost him. Slim jumps back to his feet and storms to the kitchen.

"How can you not believe what you've been seeing for the past eighteen months?" I call after him, "Does Andy's suffering mean nothing to you?"

"You think I don't care?" he asks quietly, coming back from the kitchen and standing in front of me, whiskey bottle in his hand, "I hate myself for letting him go through what he has! But there's nothing I can do! He'd be better off dead!"

"How can you say that?" Ruth says, cringing at him.

"With certainty!" he barks.

"You're a…a-" she stammers.

"A what, Ruth?" Slim snorts.

" _You're an idiot_! I hate you Slim Sherman. I hate you!" She screams, quite possibly on the verge of tears, "You're a waste of a man, you're a failure, you've destroyed your own home and condemned your brother to a painful and pointless life! I hope you burn!" with that, she runs out of the house, slamming the door behind her. It's only seconds before I hear the sound of hoof beats riding away, and I glance out the window to see her horse disappearing up the road.. I turn away from the window, and face Slim again.

"Well, what do you have to say?" he demands, "Gonna chastise me some more? Or have you run out of clichéd old sayings to spout at me?"

"I have nothing to say to you. Not anymore," I reply.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk."

"You're leaving too?"

"If I was smart, I would. But _Andy_ needs me," I say disdainfully, finally grabbing the food scraps and heading out the door.

"I can take care of him by myself," Slim says, his voice now emotionally drained.

"You can barely take care of yourself, start living in the real world, Slim."

I finally walk out and spot Andy by the corral, talking to Cyclone. Before I head over, I hear the pop of a cork from a whiskey bottle and the clink of the neck connecting with a glass.

It won't be long now.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I'm back, sorry for the delay in uploading, I've been gone. I want to get these out sooner, because who likes being left in suspense, amiright? So anyhow, here's the next two chapters. ENJOY!_

I open my eyes to a gray sky and raindrops falling on my face. Am I still in the alleyway?

I sit up stiffly and see a fire in front of me, a coffee pot trembling above the fire, a small clearing, and two hitched up horses. Where am I? I feel myself leaning against a saddle and I look down to see myself on top of a bedroll, bandages on my arm. I reach a sore bandaged hand up to my head and feel that it too is wrapped in white cloth. My mouth is dry and metallic tasting, and I am aching all over.

"Thought you'd decided to hibernate," a voice comments. I snap my head up and see a tall, thin, blue-eyed stranger walking into the clearing, stepping over a log and sitting down in front of the fire across from me.

"Prolly be better off if I did," I reply without thinking, only feeling pity for myself.

"I don't know 'bout that," the stranger says, grabbing a hot pad and removing the coffee pot from the fire. "Autumn is a beautiful time, especially out here. Be a shame to sleep on this."

"I reckon so," I rasp. The stranger grabs a couple metal cups out of his saddle bags on the ground, and shakes them out. He then looks at me for the first time.

"You want some coffee?" he asks, his voice low. He seemed to mush all his words together and speak without making too much eye contact. Strange fella.

"Yeah, thanks stranger," I say straightening myself out.

"No biggie," Stranger replies.

"I don't think I caught your name," I say as he hands me a cup of hot coffee. God, it smelled so good. Can't remember the last time I had fresh coffee.

"I don't make a habit of throwing it," he says curtly.

"Ah I can relate," I mutter, remembering all the times my name and reputation had gotten me into predicaments. I figured this fella might've had a past similar to mine. "So I suppose you're wanted?" I pry.

"More like unwanted. Seems a man can't make a living without everyone and his dog criticizing him for it," he explains, pouring himself a cup of joe.

"Oh yeah, what d'ya do?" I took a sip of the coffee and inhaled deeply. When coffee tastes as good as it smells, it's good coffee.

"Bounty hunter," he says flatly. Bounty hunter? Geeze, not exactly an admirable profession.

"Hm, well I can see why you'd be unwanted," I say with a smirk.

"It's a living," he sighs, "I'd probably make more money if I brought 'em in dead, save on food and supply costs anyhow."

Wait, why wouldn't he bring them in hanging over the saddle instead of sitting up in it? What sense did that make?

"Just what kinda bounty hunter are you? Who brings their man in alive?" I ask, completely bewildered. The stranger puts the coffee pot down and sits back.

"If the poster says wanted dead or alive, I'd rather bring 'em in alive." he takes a sip of his own coffee and scoffs, sticking his tongue out, like he thought the coffee was bitter. I shake my head.

"What, feed him and struggle with him just so he can swing? Your methods don't exactly sound all that logical," I point out.

He pauses, and pushes his hat back, scratching his ash blonde hair briefly.

"Might not seem like it," he starts, "but I have morals."

Hm. Morals. Not a word I'd heard in a very long time. I shake my head and sit back.

"I can remember saying that a time or two in my defense. Can't now. I don't know what I've become, or what I stand for. I'm just stayin' alive, drifting around without a purpose."

The stranger purses his lips and glances down, thinking about that statement, as if it applied to him. He yawns and then stretches, folding his arms behind his head and looking at the cloudy sky.

"Mhm. One of these days I'll settle down, but I've got gypsy blood so I can't really say what I'm going to do."

A traveling man, eh? I snorted in amusement, but then I noticed the gun belt slung over the log behind him. The ammo was massive as was the holster. A mare's leg? I'd seen them in books, and in gun shops, but didn't figure people actually carried them as an actual form of defense. Who do I know that carries a mare's leg? Then I realized:

"Wait a sec, you wouldn't happen to be Randall would you? Josh Randall?"

He gives me the side eye and then reaches into his shirt pocket for a quirley.

"I would."

"Heard the name, never seen the face. I've been told of a bounty hunter who takes his prisoners in alive. Mighty strange, figure there's only one of 'em."

Randall nods and finishes rolling his smoke.

"Yeah."

"Where do ya call home?" I questioned, getting real tired of his one word answers.

"A saloon with a tall drink waiting for me," he says dryly, striking a match on his boot heel.

"Doesn't sound like much of a home," I comment. This man was a puzzle, for sure.

"It works. You?" He looks at me again, before blowing smoke rings into the air.

I think about his question and what I called home. Did he even care? Doesn't matter I guess, but it'd probably feel good to get it off my chest.

"I don't have a home. Not anymore," I sigh.

"Tragic backstory huh?" Randall snorts.

"Yeah, one of the best," I admit.

"Mind relaying?"

Well, maybe he _was_ interested. I rested my head back on the saddle and gazed at the fire.

"Yeah, I got kicked out of a stage stop ranch for killing my employer's thirteen year old brother."

Randall blinked slowly and looked to the sky, then glanced back down.

"Jesus. The law on your trail?"

"Surprisingly, no. I can't figure it."

"How'd it happen?"

A question, nobody had ever asked me, not since I left.

 _How did it happen?_

Echoing in my mind, no one cared before, but I do. Because I replayed it in my mind, every night for the last year and a half. Detailing every scenario in chronological order, what was said, what was done. Somehow though, I was empty. After knowing for so long, how would I be able to verbally relay everything? I mean, saying it out loud? There was no way. Incriminate myself again? Relive it one more heartbreaking time, and have some stranger listen to me?

"It's okay," Randall assured me, figuring he should shut me down.

"No, I'll tell ya," I said, exhaling slowly.

It all comes flooding back and I'm suddenly transported to that cloudy day eighteen months ago, seemingly hundreds of years ago. I can see it all, the perfect scene for everything to go haywire.

We'd been on a relatively short cattle drive for our wealthy friend, Lee Erwin, herding his fifteen hundred head of cattle to another pickup point for a large outfit that was collecting beef for the buyers in Sedalia. The pickup point was up in Cheyenne, about fifty miles from Laramie, one of the shortest drives I'd ever been on. Slim had known Lee for more than five years, and considered him a partner. So naturally, any friend of Slim was a friend of mine and I was obligated to help. At first, I didn't want to participate in the drive, seeing how I had chores back at the ranch to attend to, but Jonesy had assured me that he and Andy would hold down the fort for me.

Well, we started in Laramie early on a Monday morning, and headed out, one thousand and five hundred beeves in tow. Slim rode point while Lee, I, and several others rode swing. The more surly of the bunch got to ride drag the whole duration of the trip.

Andy begged me not to go, claiming that Jonesy wasn't much fun and he even asked if he could go along. Slim put his foot down right away; he loved his brother too much to let him go.

"Please, please Slim! I know how to rope and ride just like you and Jess!" Andy pleaded, trailing behind Slim as he headed to Alamo, carrying his worn out saddle.

Slim sighed with a resigned grin. "Andy, I told you before: It's too dangerous."

"Aw come on, Sliiiim," Andy groaned. I smirked and shook my head, tightening the girth strap on my own saddle.

"Listen Andy," I started, "I know how much this would mean to ya if we let ya come, but Slim's got a point."

Andy huffed and crossed his arms. Slim exhaled and looked down at his little brother, putting his gloved hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe next time," he assured him.

Andy let his arms drop to his sides and he nodded, looking at the ground. I gave Jonesy the "take care of him" look and mounted Traveler.

We were about fifteen miles gone by the time we realized we had a stowaway. Slim threw him across the ground and quickly grabbed the lantern by the chuck wagon, shining the orange light on the offender. His eyes were visibly wide when he realized who it was.

"What in God's name are you doing here?" he demanded.

A very tired-looking and disheveled Andy got to his feet and brushed himself off.

"I wanted to go with you!" he defended.

Slim pursed his lips and tried not to roll his eyes. I walked over to Andy and snorted with amusement.

"Have a fun ride?" I asked, "I hope ya did, because you're going to be riding with us for the next thirty five miles."

Slim's head jerked up, his thoughts obviously interrupted by my suggestion.

"He is going back home first thing in the morning!" he shouted, pointing to the ground to emphasize his point. I tilted my head back, giving Slim an exasperated look.

"Slim, let's be realistic," I offered, "Who's going to ride fifteen miles back to the ranch with Andy, I mean anybody we can actually spare? We're undermanned and overworked, we don't have time for that."

Slim cringed and glanced back at Andy.

"Alright," he said firmly, "You can stay, but you're riding in the wagon, I don't need you underfoot. I'm severely disappointed in you, I gave you a direct order and you disobeyed me."

"Yeah, direct order," I echoed.

"When we get back to the ranch, you'll be taking on all of Jonesy's chores as punishment-"

"All of Jonesy's chores," I repeated.

"-and your allowance will be docked." he finished.

"Yeah, docked allowance," I continued.

Slim dropped his arms in anger and gave me a furious look.

"Do you mind?" he practically shouted.

"Not at all," I replied smugly.

"What, you think this is funny? Do you endorse the delinquency of minors?" he asked.

I shrugged, arms still crossed. "Nah," I said, "I just think you're overreacting and from where I'm standing you look like a broody mother hen."

Slim clenched his jaw and gave me the death glare.

"Oh ho, from where you're standing, huh?" he started, "Well, from where you're standing I'd bet if you pulled up your socks, you'd be blind."

That caught me off guard. He knew darn well how insecure I was about my height, he was hitting below the belt. My fists were now balled, the leather of my gloves squeaking as I did so. He was gunna get it.

"You better watch out Slim," I warned, "Or you're gunna catch."

"Catch what?" he scoffed.

"These hands!" I shouted, lunging at him. We collided with several grunts, and the fists flew.

Lee had just gotten back from making sure the drovers had bedded the herd down for the night, when he saw us engaged in hand-to-hand combat.

I was shoved against the side of the chuck wagon, and Slim aimed for my face. I ducked quickly and his hand smashed the wood and he shouted in anger. The next hand caught my jaw and I was sent to the dirt. He jumped for me, but Lee suddenly yanked him back.

"What in tarnation is going on here?" he demanded, spreading his arms between us to make sure we stayed apart.

"He started it!" Slim accused, pointing at me.

I still sat on the ground, rubbing my jaw.

"Well?" Lee said, looking at me expectantly.

I knew this was bad. I had absolutely no real excuse for throwing the first punch. My insecurities were now showing, and I think Lee knew it.

"Well, he…" I trailed off.

"What Jess?"

"He told me I was short," I replied curtly.

Lee lowered his eyelids, and shook his head, then looked at me again.

"Pardon?"

"He made fun of my height." I muttered, realizing how childishly stupid I sounded. Lee looked so incredibly stupefied, that he couldn't even speak. The actual lack of decent adult behavior on my part just drained him of a few brain cells, apparently.

"Jess," he said, "You know it's true."

I went slack-jawed; How was he taking Slim's side?

"What?" I screeched.

Lee threw his head back, laughing. "Hell, you're so short, you can't tell if you have a headache or a footache!"

I rolled onto my side and groaned. Now all the other drovers were surrounding us, laughing hysterically. I put my forehead into the dirt and started laughing as well. At this point, I was so tired it was either laugh or cry, and laughing seemed like a significantly better option.

Andy sat on the ground next to me and patted my back.

"It's okay," he comforted, "I'm only five-three."

I looked up at him, then sat up and rubbed my face, still laughing.

"It's not that," I said, involuntarily snickering, "It's just that, that-"

I fell back over, sides aching from cackling.

"It's true!" I yelled.

Andy stood up, giving us all disgusted looks, wondering why we were acting up the way we were.

"Well I don't see what's so funny," he said disapprovingly.

Slim was laughing too, leaning against the wagon, holding his stomach and almost crying.

"Eeh, you needed a ladder to reach manhood Jess," he added, falling forward and resting against me.

"Aw, now that's going too far!" I complained, tears of mirth in my eyes.

Slim punched my arm playfully and tried to pause between laughs.

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, "Slim, you tall thing you, must be terrible being over six feet, I mean, what with birds always trying to build nests in your hair like that….oh wait, that _is_ your hair!"

Slim stopped laughing, but the drovers continued, beyond hysterical.

"Hey, that's, that's," he mumbled, "Not…nice."

I slapped his back and put my head on his arm, "I didn't know they stacked piles of shit that high!" I practically wheezed, too amused to even breathe properly.

Andy snorted, trying not to laugh, but he broke down and started cackling.

"Jess, that's mean!" He tried to reprimand me, but he was too far gone.

Lee was on his knees, wiping his face with his hat, his shoulders jerking up and down with hiccups.

"Ya'll are off your rudder," Andy finally said, no longer laughing.

Everyone slowly settled down, and Slim and I were still back to back on the ground, now exhausted. At least five minutes of silence ensued after we calmed down.

"What were you so worked up about, anyway?" I asked.

Those were some good times.


	5. Chapter 5

It was the middle of the night (or I'm guessing that's when it was, anyhow it was pitch black) when the lightning struck. A flash of white and then an enormous crack of thunder, comparable to a massive whip, shredding through the darkness and inducing terror.

I sat up and glanced at Slim, who was already slipping his boots on. I could see the whites of his eyes even through the black of night, and I knew he was panicking.

Lee jumped to his feet and ran to the horses, unhitching his buckskin.

"The cattle!" he cried out as he mounted, "We have to cut them off at the pass!"

Then it hit me: we had bedded the beeves down less than a fourth of a mile before the entrance to a canyon. This wouldn't have been an issue if the end of the canyon wasn't a drop off. If those steers made it to the entrance, there would be no way on heaven or on earth that we would be able to cut them off without risking our lives. I could already hear them moving, scared out of their wits by the commotion of the storm.

I grabbed my boots and slid them on as hastily as I could, then I headed for Traveler, who was wide awake, his eyes white and his legs quivering in the roar of the storm.

Then the rain started. My saddle was slick as all get out, and I had trouble staying seated. I got the poor old boy up to a canter before I reached the herd. The nighthawks were doing their best to circle the cattle, but several steers speedily strayed away and in the uproar, frightening the others. Another crack of thunder sounded and rang through my ears, piercing my insides. I could feel a quiet thud in my chest from the pressure of the roar and I knew the lightning was coming next.

Sure enough, another flash lit the sky as I rushed up behind the cattle.

"Get in front of them! They're headed towards the canyon!" Slim shouted, galloping Alamo towards the front of a thousand steers.

The rain came down in sheets, visibility was low, there was the heavy hanging sense that anything could go wrong at anytime, and a lump of dread filled the pit of my stomach. Rain whipped my face as I tried to get ahead of the cattle.

"Drive them in a circle! Drive them in a circle!" Lee kept repeating at the top of his lungs.

I reached point and drove them right, however there was nobody behind me and there was a window for escape.

"Turn them! Turn them!" I screamed at Joe, who was trying his level best to get his horse, Handsome, up to speed. The dapple gray pony caught his leg in front of a steer's horn, and as the cow leapt up behind him, Handsome and Joe were flipped backwards into the oncoming herd.

"No!" I cried. There was nothing I could do now, he was bound to be trampled to death.

The canyon loomed closer as another bolt of lightning etched the sketch like cracks in glass. We had to turn them before the first wave made it through the entrance.

All the drovers were now way behind the herd, doing their best to catch up. They stabbed the sides of their horses with their spurs, but the rain made the dry and rocky ground too muddy to properly maneuver on.

Slim was steadily racing next to Lee towards point and it looked like we were going to meet, but a flash of yellow at the corner of my eye caught my attention.

A blur of white rushed past me, and I was able to make out Andy in his yellow bandanna.

 _Oh God no._

He was galloping Juniper as fast as she could go, her little white legs browning with mud as they made their way towards the canyon entrance.

"Andy no!" Slim screamed, spurring Alamo in the sides.

I was falling behind, too concentrated on Andy to think about how fast I was going, or which direction the steers were headed.

Alamo started to huff and foam formed at his lips, his muscles wet with sweat and the oncoming rain storm.

"Jess!" Slim cried out, "Stop Andy! Grab him!"

I heard the words, but they took at least two seconds to register, everything was happening all at once, it was just too fast.

" _GO_!" Slim ordered.

I spurred Traveler on and leaned forward in the saddle, trying to stay seated as the rain continued to pelt my face. Traveler's breath came out in deep puffs and his muscles tightened with each step. He galloped across the muddy landscape, chasing Juniper.

"Come on, come on!" I hissed over the thunder cracks.

Foam seeped from the edges of his lips and whipped his sides, his strides slowly becoming smoother and his breath more strained. The mud squelched and slapped with every hoof beat and the lightning splashed the sky, painting a horrific picture of glowing veins through the purple and black clouds.

Traveler slowed and Juniper did the same, but we still weren't neck and neck.

"Andy!" I yelled, "Stop! For the love of God, come back!"

Andy looked back, fear apparent in his brown eyes and I glanced backwards to see the steers catching up with us.

 _Great._

The steers engulfed us, their horns drawing dangerously close to us. Traveler was rammed in the haunches by one of the stray horns and he squealed and reared. Another set of horns snatched his back legs and he went down like a tree.

I flew from the saddle into the wave of horns and wet cow flesh and I figured it was the end. I slapped into the mud and felt my back being trampled down by countless sets of hooves. I raised myself quickly to my knees (stupid, I know) and tried to stand up. I saw horns headed my direction and my pathetic life flashed before my eyes. Suddenly, I felt my shirt tighten around my neck, and I was once again flying. I was bounced up and an arm grasped under my arms and around my chest.

"Hold on!" Slim rasped, trying to get a good grip on my sopping wet body.

I reached one leg over the Alamo's rump and swung on behind Slim, grabbing around his waist.

"Take him!" Slim demanded, standing up in the saddle and getting ready to pounce on a rocky outcropping at the entrance of the canyon.

He was trusting me with his horse, hoping my horsemanship skills could get me through that herd; he was trusting me with _Andy's life_. I didn't realize it then, I only thought of why he was handing the reins to me. I was lighter, and I knew how to get the horse up to speed, that's all the reasoning I could muster honestly.

I grabbed the reins and when Slim jumped off onto the canyon wall, I spurred that horse until he was rasping. He was going to die at this rate, but his spirit was too strong to quit.

I could faintly see Andy's yellow bandanna in the distant herd of steers, and I pushed Alamo through the ocean of horns.

The steers were crying and howling through the raging thunderstorm, and showed no signs of slowing. The purple sky showed up ahead through the canyon walls and I knew the drop off was imminent. I could already hear the sharp cries of steers as they fell, fading as they reached the bottom of the drop off and meeting their grisly fate.

Andy knew there was a drop, and I saw him press Juniper against the canyon wall and precariously turn her around to go against the grain of steers. She refused to move and Andy started to look helplessly in my direction. Alamo's breath was suddenly vacant and his strides were now abrupt and wobbly.

His front legs collapsed and he screeched out one last time. I leapt from the saddle before his back legs went down and I slammed myself against the canyon wall, trying desperately to climb up above the speeding cows. My boots slipped against the wall, and I felt like a mouse dangling in front of a cat, swinging by the tail and waiting for the beast below to leap up and snatch me, bringing me down to my death.

I reached one arm up, straining my muscles as I left all my body weight on a single hand grasping a jutting rock.

I reached the other arm up and deemed my legs useless as there were no sturdy footholds. Upper body strength was all I had, and my gloves were wet and muddy, not to mention slippery. I could feel my back, arms, and stomach aching and stinging with the effort. I gritted my teeth and powered onward, finally slapping a hand on the top of the canyon wall. I reached a leg over and rolled onto my side, breathing heavily.

There was no pausing to catch my breath, I had to rescue Andy. I got to my feet, but my knees were jelly and I kept tripping and falling.

"Andy!" I shouted, sliding on my belly as I reached the point of the canyon where he was sitting on Juniper.

I looked down and called his name again. He heard me and looked up, panic in his eyes.

"Jess!" he whimpered.

"I'm comin' to getchya buddy, just hang on!"

I turned myself around and slid down the canyon wall, my back towards the rain and my chest against the muddy rock. I felt a tree sticking out from the rock, and I decided it would hold my weight. I sat on the branch carefully and slid along it towards Andy.

"Grab my hand!" I ordered, stretching my wet and dirty arm towards him. I was upside down at this point and God knows where my hat had gone.

Andy's face creased with worry and he held tighter around Juniper's neck.

"Come on!" I said, desperate for him to reach out.

Andy delicately sat up in the saddle and reached a hand out. Before we could touch, a steer's horn pierced Juniper's chest and she screamed, being pushed back several feet.

Andy yelped and clamped himself tighter around her neck. She cried in pain as blood gushed out of her wound. I knew she would go down any second.

I hastily moved to the other side of the branch and reached my arm out again.

"Grab my hand!" I screamed.

Andy's eyes were wide as saucers and I knew he couldn't do it. Blue eyes stared into brown and I saw his complete lack of trust in me, something I had never seen before.

"I won't let you go! I _promise_! _Trust me_!" I assured him.

He shook his head and tears streamed down his face.

"Jess I _can't_!" he sobbed, looking at me the whole time.

I could feel my own eyes widening and forehead creasing.

"Please, God damn it! Just do it!" I helplessly pleaded.

Juniper was pushed again and she was only a couple feet from the drop off. Andy was now out of my reach and I had to act quickly.

I jumped from the tree and grasped a ledge, pulling one half of my body onto the outcropping while my other leg and arm draped over the side.

I was now dangerously close to the drop off, and I knew death was looking me right in the face.

I reached my arm out once more.

"Andy!" I said, exhaustion now present in my voice.

Andy looked at me and was frozen with fear. I made a lunge of faith and grabbed his wet shirt just as Juniper was pushed over the edge. She slid out from underneath him and all of his weight was suddenly, without warning, all on my left arm.

I could only reach one arm out, if I used the other, I'd fall off the ledge and we'd both be dead.

I clenched his sopping shirt as tightly as I could with my gloved hand, my fingers and arm on fire.

You know how when you were a kid and you'd go down to the lake to try and see who of your friends could hold their breath longer? And you know how you'd put your head under the surface of the water and after maybe fifteen seconds, your lungs would start to burn? But you were so determined to stay down the longest, that you tried to power through it? And how you knew you were going to drown if you didn't resurface, so you made your way to the top all while you felt like your insides would explode? That's exactly how I felt now, and my breaking point was inevitable.

I let out an inhuman cry of pain and anger as I threw him up in the air by the back of his shirt and grasped his yellow bandanna. My hand clenched around the bandanna, but the weight was suddenly all gone.

I opened my eyes in time to see the bandanna unraveled and Andy falling over the drop off, his eyes staring back into mine as he plummeted to his death. I was holding his bandanna in my hand and I couldn't comprehend what had just happened.

 _You let me down._

I heard his voice in my head and then my own.

I _won't let you go. I promise. Trust me._

What have I done.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks for sticking around!

Chin on the table, eyes blurring, I saw the empty bottle in front of me.

 _I did it again._

Record time, probably. I felt horribly sick to my stomach, and somewhat ashamed at my state. If alcohol never solved any of my problems, why was it always my last resort? Darkness skirted the edges of my vision, and I knew I was going to black out. Before doing so, I fell forward onto the table and then off of it and onto the floor. Jonesy stood above me, grimacing in pity and disapproval as he watched me pass out.

L-L-L-L-

I blinked my eyes open and there I was again, clinging to the muddy canyon wall, rain hitting my face and the wind whipping my hat off my head. Thunder rumbled above head and drowned out the cries of the cattle.

I crawled up the canyon while the herd stampeded, and I ran along the top when I finally made it. Looking down into the canyon, I could see the countless steers racing each other through the sheets of rain. Lightning struck a tree in the distance and it exploded into a fireball of white light. I winced at the enormous boom, but knew I had to find out where Andy and Jess went.

 _Darn that Andy! Always trying too hard to help._

Attempting to block off the steers at the canyon entrance was, in actuality, a bad idea on his part. He knew he wouldn't be able to do it, what was he trying to prove?

When I finally slid to a halt at the end of the canyon, I looked down into the gorge and spotted the drop off. I also witnessed all of Lee's beeves toppling over the side, one after the other, smashing onto the ground and then onto each other's lifeless corpses. It was like a mountain of beef, slowly getting bigger with each wave. It had to stop soon! It didn't. They kept coming, and they didn't stop coming; it was an endless stream.

Horns, facing downwards, stabbing into squirming cows below, blood spurting into the rain, running down the pile of flesh, mixing with the water and mud to make a gory combination of earth and animal.

My heart racing, I snapped my gaze from the bloody scene in front of me and searched the stampede for any signs of Jess or Andy.

" _Andy!_ " I screamed, eyes darting back and forth from one cow to the next.

I caught a flash of yellow in the dark and the scene before me was illuminated by another flash.

Jess was on the edge of a ledge, reaching his arm out to Andy, who was mounted on a bleeding Juniper. Andy was so close to the drop off, my breath was stolen right from my chest.

 _Save him!_

Jess lurched forward and grabbed the back of Andy's soaked shirt right as Juniper was shoved over the ledge and onto the pile of corpses more than thirty feet below.

I could suddenly see Jess's face pinch and his arm muscles strain, his back tensing as he tried to lift Andy up onto the ledge with him. He paused momentarily and then tossed Andy in the air by a few inches, grabbing his yellow bandanna.

The scarf tightened around Andy's neck for only a second before it unraveled and Jess's arm went slack. I saw the outline of my brother falling, flailing, plunging to the rocks below.

" _NO_!"

My voice was shrill, a lump forming in my throat and tears welling at my eyes. I couldn't breath, my chest felt like it was caving in and my heart was doing back flips.

I saw Jess continue to stare down into the massacre of beef, face blank and hand still clutching the bandanna.

 _How could he?_

I trusted him! _He-he…he let him go! Andy is dead, oh my god. God, god, lord in heaven let him be alive damn it! This isn't happening, this is a nightmare, this is in my head._

I stumble forward as the rain starts to let up and the thunder fades. The last few steers have made their way down the slope of corpses, safely running off into the Wyoming wilderness, and out of sight.

I race to the edge of the canyon and slide down the side, mud coating my chest and legs and countless jutting rocks bumping my ribs and making my body ache. There was no time to worry about broken bones, now was the time for action! I had to find Andy.

I made it down past the drop off and fell backwards into the mud, hitting my head on a rock and swearing. I flipped back over and splashed into a puddle, slipping and falling to my knees when I tried to get to my feet. I half walked, half crawled to the pile of corpses and dragged myself up onto the nearest steer.

"Help me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

The last surviving drovers surrounded the scene, their faces gaunt and eyes blurred with the struggle of the night. "Help!" I ordered, now furious with their lack of action.

Rick, Ace, and Jim all ran forward and began hauling mangled steers from the pile. Lee was now behind me, trying to help me with my share of the pile.

"Slim, you're-"

"Shut up and help!" I barked.

I was angry, desperate, horrified; my brother was surely dead. How could this happen? Jess had every chance to save him and he didn't! Why in the hell didn't he just hold on? He did this, he did this, he's finally done it. I always knew he was no good!

 _What are thinking, this is Jess you're talking about_ , the sensible part of me argued.

 _Once a criminal always a criminal…everybody knows it_ , my emotion driven alter ego quipped.

 _You're going mad Slim, you need to calm down._

 _Calm down? My brother is somewhere under these thousand or so godamned steers and I'm supposed to be calm?_

 _Your anger is getting the best of you, the men can see it. Andy will be fine, you panicking isn't going to help, not one bit._

 _Shove it, this isn't fair!_

 _Of course it isn't, but there is no one to blame, not even yourself._

 _There has to be someone, this wasn't an accident!_

 _Do you even hear yourself?_

 _I didn't ask for this!_

 _You're being unreasonable._

 _But Jess! I told him to save Andy!_

 _This has nothing to do with him._

 _He let go._

 _Yes, maybe so, but-_

 _HE LET GO._

 _No, stop this._

 _HE…JESS…LET GO…._

 _Stop. Please. You are not right about this._

 _Of course I am, I saw what happened! I swear to God, if Andy is dead, I will MURDER that man._

I didn't even know what was happening in front of me as thoughts galloped through my mind. I was going crazy wasn't I? Crazy with anger and grief. I had not once experienced this kind of rush previously in all my years on this earth. I was practically tearing the flesh off those dead cows, trying to move them. I was up to my shoulders in blood and I was nowhere close to slowing down. I grunted and hissed, giving it my all. The men started backing off as they saw the blood splatter my face and slick my hair and skin in crimson. I felt inhuman. My strength now was like I had never felt it before. One steer was nothing to me. A firm grasp on two horns-Heave!

Tossed aside, like it was nothing more than a troublesome weed in the garden.

Then I saw it: Andy's boot, sticking out from underneath three steers. My eyes widened and I hit my knees, sloshing through the blood and mud and rain, digging, trying to free him.

"Andy!" I shrieked.

L-L-L-L-L

I blindly wandered down from the canyon top and down past the drop off. The other men saw me, and Lee gave me a worried look. He was biting his lower lip and his forehead was creased with anxiety. My eyes were heavy and my will was weak, but I knew something was up, and I needed to know what.

 _Please don't let them find Andy dead!_

Jim glanced towards the cow pile and back to me. He was trying to get me to pay attention.

I exhaled with defeat and looked towards the pile again, this time seeing Slim on his hands and knees, hauling steers away from a small stack of three or four cows.

He was furiously throwing them away, and his face and arms were sticky with blood.

 _Who's blood?_

That's when I saw Andy's boots stretched out under a steer.

 _God almighty._

Slim finished dragging the last steer off and fell down next to the lifeless body of his brother.

 _Oh my God…no._

"Andy," he choked out weakly, ever so gently scooping him up and cradling him in his arms.

Andy's head fell back out of Slim's arms and his mouth hung open, blood seeping from its corners.

"Please….no," Slim pleaded.

Lee closed his eyes and tilted his chin downwards, while the other drovers looked away.

I couldn't.

My mouth was agape and my gaze was still lingering on the twisted and bloodied body of Andy Sherman, the boy I tried to save, and failed miserably.

"Andy, no, no, no…" Slim started to sob, his shoulders wobbling and his head falling forward onto Andy's chest. His sobs came out slowly and turned into saddened moans. I had never heard such despair in my life, never such mourning.

He had lost his everything.

Tears streamed down his face as he tilted his head back towards the sky. Dawn was just a rumor by now, yet the clouds started to part and the rain had finally stopped. All was quiet across the land except for the wails of someone who had lost their world.

I could feel my heart sinking and a lump of grief rise in my throat, my eyes welling with tears and knees growing weak.

I looked down at the yellow bandanna I still held in my hand and then back at Slim.

Slim very slowly laid Andy down in the mud and slid his arms out from underneath of him, resting his palms on his lap. He stared at his brother's corpse for a few moments, before he spotted me.

 _Awh hell no._

His face was blank, but then turned into the face I never ever wanted to see. He was pissed. Like a mother bear looking for her missing cubs. Only, Slim knew his cub was dead.

He got to his feet and took his now reddened gloves off, tossing them on the ground and not once removing his eyes from me.

I didn't know what to say, what to do, or how to console him. I thought I understood how he was feeling, I loved Andy so much, maybe even more. I was wrong.

"Slim, I-…I'm sorry" I murmured.

Slim's eyes grew wide and his fists clenched. Lee saw what was about to go down and raced over to Slim.

Before he could make it, Slim ran forward through the mud, determined like a freight train to bowl me over.

"You son of a-" he shouted, but was cut ff as he lunged at me, both his palms making contact with my shoulders. I was shoved to the ground and the breath was knocked clean out of me.

Our eyes met and what I saw still sticks with me to this day.

His blue eyes were on fire, wild, crazed, violent. He was determined to kill. I knew it, I had seen it before. Once, in a wolf, right before he killed my cousin, Bill.

Somehow, I knew my life was in danger.

However, I refused to fight, especially for something that I knew wasn't my fault. Right when he looked at me, I knew he needed to take his anger out on someone, and that someone was me. Did he even see what happened? Surely he knew it was an accident? An enormous accident, but an accident all the same! I did what I could, Reasonable Slim knew that! But Crazed Slim apparently didn't. I had never seen Slim like this, his hands were now clamped around my neck.

"Fight me you coward!" he growled through gritted teeth, slowly choking the life out of me.

I simply did not give in; Although, I wanted to deck him.

His weight was on me, his grip now growing tighter and sweat from his forehead ran off his face and onto mine.

Jesus, he was strong.

Black spots formed at my vision and I made the worst gurgling sound as I struggled to breathe.

"Slim! Please!" I hissed.

His face was that of rage, and he was nowhere near stopping his endeavor. He wanted me dead, and by God, he would have his way.

"STOP!" Lee yelled, tackling Slim and holding him down on the ground.

I gasped and sat up, promptly hyperventilating until I could catch regular breaths.

The drovers just stood and watched, pity written all over their faces.

"Thanks for helping out you guys," I muttered before getting to my feet.

" _You did this_!" Slim shouted, struggling against Lee's arms around his chest.

What could I say? It was my fault Andy was gone. I still hadn't even processed the magnitude of the event yet, and it felt strange. I felt no more remorse then than if Andy had been some kind of expendable object. Where was my sorrow? Where were my feelings? Logically, I knew this was bad, but the sadness was no longer there. Had the adrenaline of the fight kicked all the grief out of my system?

"I'm sorry, I tried to save him," I replied quietly.

Slim looked simultaneously helpless and disgusted.

"You dropped him!" he argued, still pressing forward against Lee's grip.

The other drovers glared at me, as though they were taking Slim's side. Y'know, I could hardly blame them, it sure did look like I was the bad guy here. Maybe I was.

I stepped forward, hands up in submission.

"Please, Slim," I started, "Let me expla-"

I couldn't even finish before Slim pushed backwards against Lee and turned around, grabbing Lee's gun from its holster. He aimed it past me and I felt my heart drop. A shot rang out as he pulled the trigger and a searing pain ripped through my left hand. I screamed in agony and fell to my knees, clutching my hand. What was going on?

This wasn't Slim! It was his face, but the man behind it was now a stranger to me. I looked up, teeth clenched, glaring at Slim. He looked vaguely astonished, as if his intentions were merely to frighten me with a warning shot, rather than to actually wound me. The damage was done, but it was more than the physical pain that brought me to my knees. It was the sheer incongruity of his actions that had me dumbfounded and feeling betrayed.

I gasped through the pain and still held my bleeding hand, watching the blood gush from it and onto my pants.

"Why?" I rasped sadly. Had we really come to this?

"That hurt?" Slim sneered, tossing the gun backwards to Lee, as if he had, with absolute certainty, willed to shoot me. "Yeah, does it? I'll bet!"

I stumbled back to my feet, my knees shaking with the effort. The wind had suddenly picked up and whipped my wet hair into my face. I stared him down, regardless.

"Slim stop this right now, please listen!" I begged him, all prior calmness in my voice now vacant. I was now an eternal abyss of anger and confusion, wrought by nothing more than an uncharacteristic act by someone who I thought was my partner. Slim pursed his lips and furrowed his brow at me.

"No _you_ listen!" he commanded, "You get the hell out of here."

The whispering wind whistled throughout the landscape as I hesitated with my response. I felt a coldness reside inside of me, a feeling I hadn't felt in a coon's age. The sensation of utter loneliness and knowing that this was the end of the tracks. Get the hell out? Where did that come from? Wherever it had come from, he meant it, perhaps not completely, but some extent I knew he wanted-needed-me gone. This was my one chance to oblige him, whatever the reason.

"Fine," I finally replied, my voice also cold.

"And don't come back this time," Slim added, starting to turn away.

I jerked my head up from my gaze at the ground to see if he was serious. I saw him looking over his shoulder as the wind caught his hair and covered his eyes. This was a joke of some sort! I didn't quite fancy it.

"Slim-" I began to argue.

"I said don't come back!" Slim snapped, turning back around to face me, "You're no longer welcome here!"

Those words cut through me like a hot knife. Was this goodbye? It couldn't be, not again. Goodbyes were all I had ever known. I thought this was where I belonged! Was home no longer sacred? We were a family, and I was told I was always welcome. It all came back to me, racing through my mind, hundreds of bittersweet memories. All of us together, Slim, Andy, Jonesy, me. Laughing, crying, fighting, working. The small battles we'd won as a team, the hard obstacles we'd overcome to stay together, we fought for each other's sake. We'd never let each other down, never abandon one another. We did whatever we could to stay as one. I don't think there was ever I time after I had bonded with Slim that I wouldn't have given my life for the man. He meant that much to me, and I owed him everything; and it was all gonna be gone, just like that.

"You don't know what you're saying," I tried to sway him. But I knew it was futile.

Something told me Slim knew very well what he was doing. His face fell and all anger and accusatory actions were leaving him, instead, in their place came despair and desperation. He was plain out giving up.

"I know enough to know that you're no good!" he shot back despondently.

" It's your fault Andy's dead!" he concluded.

Another shard of what felt like ice pierced my heart and my breath was gone; no, this couldn't be. I wasn't to blame for this? Or was I? So many questions fluttering in my head, that I didn't know which emotions to feel.

"Don't say that!" I implored, voice cracking.

The wind still roared around us and it was catching the drovers' hats, tearing them from their weary heads and gifting them to the Wyoming wild. I saw my lost hat flick towards me across the muddy ground and I scooped it up with my good hand, holding onto the one thing that was truly mine.

"I will say it, because you know what?" Slim bickered, "It's your rebellious ways and refusal to acknowledge a higher authority than your own damn self that rubbed off on him and caused him to disobey me! You've been a bad influence and people like you never change!" There was no hatred, no vengeance, just misery.

"How dare you," I growled, now feeling very much rubbed the wrong way. Tell me to leave, fine. But insult me to face, especially my independence that I held so dearly? What audacity!

"How dare I?" Slim echoed outrageously, "How dare you stick around this long! Why don't you get lost?"

I clamped my hat back on my mussed and wet hair, standing up straight and squaring my shoulders, to show that I was going out undefeated.

"Alright," I retorted curtly, "I know when I'm not wanted."

I turned around and headed towards Traveler in the distance. His survival was miraculous, but simultaneously unsurprising.

"Bout time you figured that out!" Slim snorted.

I cast one last glance at my friend from over my shoulder before I left for good.

"You're dangerously close to digging yourself into a hole you can't get out of Slim," I warned him.

"So are you." was all he said.

I broke my gaze away from him and strutted off into the rocky landscape, not once looking back. I was never going to look back. There was no more past, no more home, no more "there". I was headed off into my own life, my own choices, my own faults, taking my own orders from now on. I didn't need to be held responsible for things that I had no part in. The future was the only thing that lied ahead for me, however uncertain it may be. I had to again leave my old life behind me. Dwelling on things that once were was the key to dissatisfaction. I needed to get away from here, away from this. I started running as fast as I could, boots splashing through the mud and rocks and hand aching with the wind tearing through it. My breath came out in huffs, but I knew I couldn't stop until I got to Traveler. I held onto my hat as I ran, my stomach sore with hunger and a mixed bowl of feelings that I didn't think I could ever take the time to sort through. "Yeah that's right!" Slim's voice called from behind me, "Run away like the coward you are! Don't even think of showing your face around these parts again or I'll blow your head off! You hear me?"

Oh, I heard him alright. Trust me, I was never coming back.

 _A/N: Geeze this story is a downer. Don't worry, things will lighten up eventually. You gotta get through the bad times to make it to the good times._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Sorry for my tardiness, I was gone again for awhile and didn't have time to write. Please enjoy!_

The crisp autumn leave strung their scarlet and golden colors all around my feet as I sat on the porch admiring the fall scenery. Wyoming was so stunning this time of the year, even if it was a bit too chilly for my taste. I could see the high hills in the distance topped with morning fog and wild horses running across the pastures. Their mane fluttered in the gentle wind as the rising sun cut through the ponderosas on the horizon and lit up their fiery locks.

I sighed as the warmth of the sun was stifled by dark clouds once again forcing themselves in its path. Well, the warm rays felt good on my cold legs for a moment. I figured that maybe that was the only sunlight I was going to see that day. Or maybe for the rest of my life. Regardless the day, I always felt like gloomy clouds were following me wherever I went. I was never going to get used to this.

This awful feeling…no, numbness…. in my legs. I hadn't been able to move them since I woke up in Doc Sweeny's office that fateful night. The night I opened my eyes to see Slim above me, his face bloody and filthy, but underneath that, a worried expression. He laughed and almost cried when he realized I was going to be okay. Several hours went by as I was examined and had my injuries set by the doctor. I knew for a fact my arm was busted, but he got that all set to rights in a jiffy and I was impressed by the smoothness of his actions and his eerily calm demeanor. Slim watched anxiously the entire time and asked many questions, always answered vaguely or with a noncommittal grunt by Sweeny.

Slim was quite a sight to behold, standing by me, arms crossed. His clothes were torn and filthy, his hair was bloody and matted with mud, while his face was scratched and caked with dirt. I knew he hadn't changed since the day before last, staying up all night and all morning by my side, awaiting my awakening. It was now very late at night and there were visible dark circles under my big brother's eyes. He wouldn't rest until he knew everything was going to be okay.

"Slim, can I talk to you over here for a minute?" Sweeny murmured, gesturing his finger towards the corner of the office.

I watched Slim's face fall and a lump rose in my throat because I knew something was terribly wrong. Was it my legs? I knew for a fact I couldn't feel them, but figured that maybe they were busted or somethin' and maybe that's why I couldn't feel that they were there. I kept a careful ear pricked to listen in on their conversation.

"Slim, I don't know how to tell ya this, but-" Sweeny started quietly.

"What? What's wrong with him?"

"Well, that's what I don't know," Sweeny confessed.

"Well whaddaya mean ya don't know? You're a doctor aren't ya?" Slim argued.

Sweeny shook his head and waved his hands for silence.

"Listen, Andy has no feeling in his legs!" Sweeny finally admitted.

Slim stood up straight and inhaled deeply, getting ready to rebuke the doctor.

"Whaddaya mean?" he demanded.

Sweeny put his stethoscope down on his desk, "He's paralyzed. He can't walk. It appears there was some sort of fracture of the spinal cord and severe damage to the nerves surrounding the base of his spine, and as a-"

"Can you cure it?" Slim questioned, a flutter of hope in his voice.

Sweeny blinked slowly and exhaled. "Slim, spinal cord injuries are very intricate and problematic, most people don't ever recover and if they do, they're only able to get back less than basic ambulatory functional ability."

Slim appeared extremely frustrated, his forehead was now creased with anxiety and his shoulders were starting to slump.

"Is there anything you can do? Anything at all?" he pleaded.

Doc Sweeny sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose while closing his eyes in thought. He then looked up at Slim with a pitying expression.

"The short answer is no," he resigned, "And I'm afraid to try any kind of physical therapy until I know the complete extent of his injuries, as any untoward pressure to the spine could cause further damage."

"So the damage could be permanent?" Slim asked, his voice sounding more depressed than angered.

Sweeny nodded, "Could be. Like I said, spinal cord injuries are some of the most troubling handicaps. I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you more."

Slim closed his eyes, shaking his head and waving the doctor off.

"No, you're doing everything you can…At this point…I'm just happy he's alive. I'm sure we'll be able to iron this out. We're Shermans. Shermans don't stay down for long."

Sweeny forced a smile and patted Slim on the shoulder.

"Thatta boy," he encouraged, "You've got a lot to be thankful for."

"Yeah…" Slim trailed off, staring into the distance and looking as though he was pondering something.

"I'd like to keep him here for the night, he needs rest, and a jarring ride back to the ranch could cause shock and more injuries," Sweeny informed him.

"Alright, when do you think he'll be ready to come back to the ranch?" Slim questioned.

Sweeny shrugged and pursed his lips, "I'd say maybe a couple days. He needs rest and laudanum," he paused, "..and lots of sympathy."

Slim nodded in agreement and glanced back at me. Suddenly, I wondered: where in the world was Jess? He would've been right at my side right now if he knew I was injured! He was my friend, and if I needed anything right now, it was a friend.

"Slim!" I called eagerly, trying to sit up.

Sweeny rushed to me along with Slim. The doc tried to keep me down on the table in a laid out kind of position, but I wanted to be seated upright.

"What is it Andy?" Slim asked, obviously worried for me.

"Where's Jess? I want to see him! He probably feels downright awful for letting me go like that, I can still remember how hard he was trying to get me to hold on. I was so stupid and afraid! I want him to know that everything is okay now," I explained to Slim. I noticed him swallowing hard and his tired blue eyes staring at me with confusion. Sweeny cast a nervous glance at my brother and I knew something was up.

"What?" I pressed, wanting them to break the silence.

Slim put a hand on my shoulder and looked at me square in the face.

"Andy," he started, "I don't know how to say this but…Jess…I made a mistake and I got real mad at him." Slim owned up.

What? What did he mean by that?

"What did'ya do ta him?" I practically shouted.

Slim blinked several times and sat down in the doc's chair getting to my level and holding my hand.

"I thought he killed you….I was furious," he said, every word being dragged out of him, "We fought, and he left. He just had enough."

I was flabbergasted; what in tarnation? They fought about me? Why did Slim think Jess had killed me? Jess would never purposely harm me, and would always go out of his way to make sure no harm befell me. We were like brothers! And there was no way Jess would ever leave, especially if he knew I was hurt! What actually happened? Should I ask? If I did, would Slim tell me the whole truth this time?

"That's not true!" I argued, "Jess didn't leave! Something happened, and you gotta tell me what Slim!"

Slim sighed and put a hand over his face, thinking. He finally looked at me again and stood up.

"When you're all rested, I'll tell you everything," he assured me.

I didn't like that idea, because I figured he would back out or forget, but I didn't want to be too disagreeable, so I just dipped my head.

"Promise?"

Slim hesitated for a little bit. "Promise," he finally said. He then ruffled my hair and gave me a slight hug before he grabbed his hat and walked towards the door. Before leaving, he turned around and looked at me and the doc.

"You behave yourself and do what the doc says," he ordered me, then he faced the doc.

"And please let me know if anything comes up, I'll be staying at Mort's office until I can take Andy home."

The doc smiled. "Sure thing, Slim."

"Thanks."

He never did tell me what happened. I didn't find out the whole story until Lee and his wife, Priscilla, dropped by the ranch to check in on me and have dinner with us.

Afterwards, Lee was sitting alone with me out on the porch, regaling me his stories from the war and stories from the countless cattle drives he'd been a part of. With Slim absent from the discussion, I was able to muster the courage I needed to ask Lee what happened on the last drive he'd been on. I remembered everything up until I fell and got knocked out, but after that, what happened between Slim and Jess, was beyond me. Lee paused and blew smoke into the summer night.

"Slim hasn't told ya huh?" he asked, his ice-blue eyes not once glancing at me. His eyes were perhaps fixed on the future; that is, if the future laid in the starry skies of June.

"Please, I need to know," I asked quietly.

Lee sighed and held his cigar a few inches from his mouth before continuing.

"When you fell, Slim turned into some kind of enraged animal, he was hungry like a wolf for revenge. I had never seen him like that before, nor do I want to see him like that again."

"Slim's not like that," I argued, "He's very mild-mannered. He only gets upset when people challenge him, and even then he's just a little perturbed. I've never seen him all out angry."

Lee snorted, taking a long drag on his cigar.

"I know kid," he muttered from the side of his mouth, "But things change, and they change fast. Jess sure didn't see it coming. He only had good intentions, he only wanted to save you. He couldn't, or at least he thought he couldn't ."

That hit me hard; Jess must've thought I was truly dead or somethin! I sure hope he knew I was okay…well partially okay. My legs were now weak and numb, and my will was cracked, but I was still breathin'. My legs weren't completely numb for the first few months, I could still feel my toes and move them, but with each passing season, I got stiffer and more defeated. I felt my condition was only worsening, and the doc had me on some kind of medicine to deplete the pain in my lower back. He said the fracture would continue to hurt even if my legs didn't feel nothin'.

Lee continued with his version of the story, "Slim thought Jess's failure to hold onto you, killed you. He was wild with pain and anger and needed to let go of his vengeance on the source of his pain. In his mind, that was Jess. Poor cowpoke got the worst of it, Slim even went so far as to shoot him to scare him off."

I gasped aloud; Slim? Shooting Jess? That just wasn't like him! This had to be a mistake!

"He forced Jess out. Guess Jess had finally had enough of being pushed around. I thought he'd still stick around, but he just broke, right then and there. Grabbed his horse and ran, didn't look back once. Far as he knew, you were dead," Lee explained, "If I know him, he'd never have been able to work for your brother again under those circumstances."

I was almost in tears; why? But tragically, it all made sense. How could Jess show his face on this ranch ever again if he thought he killed me. Even if it wasn't outright, it was still his mistake to bear. He'd stare at the ground for the rest of his days there, never once looking Slim in the eyes. Because they'd both know, and share the painful memory that would've been my death. I honestly don't blame Slim for bein' as mad as he was, but he never should have taken his anger out on Jess. He didn't deserve that. Jess definitely deserved better than what he got. He helped us all through so much, and even as he did so, I knew he felt beholdin' to us. I wonder where he went. I wonder what he's thinking of right now. I wonder if he's still alive. I wonder if he ever thinks of me. Or of Slim. Or Jonesy. Does he miss us? This? Everything? Questions I may never know the answer to, but I hope to God I find him again so I can ask him.

"Slim made him leave," I murmured, suddenly realizing I had made my observation aloud.

Lee rocked back an' forth in his chair, still blowing smoke into the air.

"Your brother knows he was wrong. He just refuses to dwell on it. All he wants to do is move on. Sometimes moving on is the scariest thing you could possibly do. But often times it's the only thing you can do."

Oddly enough, what Lee was saying made sense to me.

"You figure maybe that's why he takes to drinkin' so much? To help move on?"

Lee shrugged. "Maybe. He knows that he can't take a bullet back after he fires, but he doesn't want to think about that."

Lee then turns to me, and looks at me for the first time during our entire conversation. His eyes reflect the starry skies and subconsciously reminds me of wisdom and understanding, both traits I'm sure this man possesses.

"Just remember kid," Lee told me, "Don't be scared. As big and massive as the future is, all the pain has got to be behind us. You've survived enough."

Those words are somewhat comforting, but I too was having a hard time forcing myself away from the past. I felt a little spark of hope light inside me, thinking that I would make it through this chapter of my story and everything would be alright.

"What about Jess? Is he part of the past now?"

Lee put his hands into his coat pockets and leaned back in his chair, resting his boots on the hitching rail. Before he can reply, Jonesy comes outside and leans against the door frame, glancing down at me with a sigh. I wondered how much of the conversation he had heard.

"I don't know where Jess plays into our lives right now," he adds, "But I can tell you right now that you need to quit picking at old wounds. You'll just make more scars and harm in the end."

I think back on those words now, as I gaze into the clouds, wondering if Jess will ever come back.

LLLLL-LLLLL-LLLL

I tie Cyclone up to the corral fence and crawl through the bars to get to the other side. I smile proudly at my "guinea pig" and think of all the hard work I put into it. Andy was going to love it. For the past five grueling weeks, I had been working with that spirited palomino in an effort to retrain him to respond to different cues. It was irritating as all get out, let me tell ya. I ain't very fond of horses to begin with, seein as I was never meant to ride 'em in the first place, but I still knew a thing or two about 'em. Cyclone had his own ideas of how things should be, but enough bribery with some sugar got him thinking and acting on my level.

While Slim was out tending to the cattle, I'd hurry and finish my chores and head back to the corral to work with Cyclone. The first order of business was getting him ready for Andy to mount. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, because how does somebody who's paralyzed from the waist down get in a saddle? But I'd been to the circus a time or two an' I had seen those fancy white horses get down on their knees and fold their rear legs under them, among other tricks. Frankly, it was the perfect height for a kid to mount from.

The first few times, Cyclone figured on bein' stubborn.

I paced around him, trying to figure out how to get him down on his knees. I couldn't get him to do a darn thing for me, so I went into town and got Mort Corey's nephew, Amos Opitz, to come out and help me with the beast.

Amos was an experienced horseman, had worked with the animals all his life, breaking them, specially training them, even sold 'em for huge amounts of money at auction for them uppity eastern people who wanted a properly trained horse to do their bidding for them. Heck, Amos claimed he could even get those horses to fetch things for him. Each time he came over, he'd bring his horse, Rudy, into the corral with Cyclone. Rudy was a no-nonsense appaloosa that had been gifted to Amos by chief Running Elk after Amos had saved their entire herd from a prairie fire. Boy, that Amos was some kid, everybody loved him, 'specially his horses. Anyhow, Amos was sayin' that those appaloosas are near impossible to train to do anything, but he had gotten his horse so dulled down that it didn't even flinch when Cyclone took a chomp out of his haunches. Rudy simply turned his head in Cy's direction and pinned his ears back, giving a warning huff.

"Y'see Jonesy," Amos started, pushing his hat up onto his mop of wavy brown hair, "Horses like Cyclone are snoods, they think they're better than every other horse. Some people might think that's a flaw, but in reality, it's one of the greatest advantages a horse trainer could ask for."

I crossed my arms, not understanding one bit where Amos was going with this.

"We can use Cy's arrogance against him. If he really wants to be on the top of the totem pole, he's gunna hafta step up around Rudy here, cuz Rudy knows what's what."

I watched as Amos pulled a carrot from his back pocket and held it up in front of his face. Amos made a rapid clicking noise with his mouth and then whistled to Rudy, who came trotting up to the fence.

"Show me your pretty legs," Amos said sweetly, "Legs, Rudy, legs."

I was stunned when Rudy lifted his front legs up, one at a time, and placed them on the top bar of the fence.

Amos grinned ear to ear and gave Rudy the carrot.

"Atta boy, Rudy!" he praised the horse as it chewed its reward to a mush. Amos quickly petted the animal's muscular legs, and then tapped each leg twice, and just like magic, Rudy put his legs back down into the corral and walked off.

"That's darned impressive," I said, trying not to let my utter shock and amazement convey in my tone, "But how are we supposed to get Cyclone to do that?"

Amos snorted with amusement.

"Ol' Cy'll do it on his own. When he figures out that the only horses who get treats around here are the ones who obey orders, he'll change his tune real quick, just y'see."

As much as I hate to admit it, Amos was right. That kid was pretty sharp.

Every command Rudy got a treat for, Cyclone would do his best to imitate the trick requested, in hopes that he too would get a reward. That stupid horse was on his knees in an instant, just so he could fill his fat belly with more carrots from my vegetable garden. That old Cyclone never failed to disappoint…y'know…Andy's gunna love this.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Sorry for the delay. I'm not dead haha. Thanks for sticking with this! Let me know what you think and feel free to offer any suggestions. I really appreciate your kindness and support! :)_

I woke up in my bed, confused, dizzy…perplexed. I was darn sure I had passed out on the floor last night, I had seen Jonesy standing above me. Now I was nicely tucked in, the sunlight from my bedroom window streaming in and hurting my eyes.

I groaned and rolled back over into the bed sheets, just wanting the world to go away. My alcohol induced hibernations were the only way I could escape my problems. It was my coping mechanism. It was unhealthy, sure I knew that. I had tons of unhealthy ways of coping with my problems, and drinking was probably, surprisingly enough, the least destructive. I remember what Ruth had told me. She said I was maladjusted! That I grew up too fast and couldn't properly metabolize changes so I compensated for the seriousness in my life by being emotionally immature despite going through a lot of bullcrap. Where was the lie, though?

Getting drunk as a skunk was the easy way out. Just like our relationship…I chose the easy way out of that too. I had always chosen the easy way out…of everything. That's what she said. I finally broke it off with her a few nights ago, and I think that's another reason I started to search for my problems at the bottom of a bottle. Andy, the ranch, my expenses, Ruth, the impending doom that was winter, and….Jess. What else could I do? I didn't know what to do. No one could help me. Hell, even if they could, I'd refuse their help. Because I'm "difficult".

Ruth thought she could see through all of my ruses, she thought she knew me better than anyone else. She went from aggressively supporting me and praising me to belittling me and shining the light of shame on all of my supposed "issues". She swung so fast when I told her I didn't want to be with her anymore. Like they say, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned". Boy oh boy, was that true as all get out.

Honestly, I feel like she overreacted. I'm not really sure, however. We were together for two years, and maybe she felt like I had led her on, or wasted her time or something. I mean, I can't be held responsible for a risk she decided to take. I told her from day one I didn't know if it was going to work out at all. She liked me, maybe she even thought she loved me. I didn't know how to feel at first. After each outing, I grew fonder of her. She was an attractive young lady, and any man would have been lucky to have her. I knew that, I told her that. I still don't know why she chose to stay with me. But I felt honored, somewhat? But maybe….obligated to feel as strongly about her as she did about me. I felt the slightest hint of pressure.

Ruth had always been so good to me, I valued her, I never wanted to lose her. I thought that making a feeble effort to return her feelings would result in me falling head over heels for her. I think deep down, I knew I was never going to feel the same. Yet, I let her listen to me, and do me favors, and I had no intention of returning her feelings at that point. I wanted to keep her, so I put on this charade for two years, with the knowledge that I'd have to break it off sooner or later, weighing heavy on mind. It was a rotten thing to do, I know that much. We were so close, we were best friends. I wanted her in some part of my life, but the spot she wanted could never be filled by her. I just didn't see her as my number one.

When it finally came time to tell her that, I messed everything up. Instead of facing her like a better man would have, I made a point of avoiding her. I didn't want to see her, so I foolishly stood her up several times. I thought that maybe that would send the message that I didn't want to be with her anymore. It was the most low-down thing to do to her, but at the time, it seemed like the easiest way out.

"You thought avoiding me would solve your problems?" Ruth yelled. She was furious, she paced back and forth on the porch, her skirt swishing in the night air every time she turned. I could see the stars in her eyes as she looked at me, tearful.

"You never even tried to figure out a responsible was to let me down," she rasped quietly, "You chose the easy way out because you just didn't care enough. You outright rejected me instead of face your own lies…."

I tried to bring her in for an embrace, thinking that a "I'm sorry" and a warm hug would, in some way, make everything better. She threw my arms away and backed a few steps towards the hitching post.

"I had no problem with you deciding to let me down. I can respect that, but your actions leading up to this disappointment are what I want you to consider and understand! You led me on for two years! You have devalued me! You were so curt, insincere! You made me feel expendable by standing me up like you have. You made me feel like another notch in your belt of lost causes….maybe I am. Either way, you've disrespected me and made me realize that you are never, ever, going to be worth my time. I let our friendship cloud my judgment of your character because I expected so much more from you. I kept letting things fly, I let you press my weak spots and play with my breaking point, which you evidently thought was non-existent or you just didn't give a damn!"

I didn't know what to say, other than to sigh and rub my forehead in exasperation. She glared at me and continued.

"I thought I would be the only one who would be able to offer you a free pass every time you wronged me, but I realize I was hurting myself by letting you get away with things….I hope you know you're losing the best thing that ever happened to you!"

She crossed her arms and looked down at her boots, trying to stifle a sob.

"I lost that a long time ago…" I muttered unconsciously. I should not have done that…not then. It was poor timing.

"Ohhhhh!" She screamed, "Won't you ever get over Jess? You act like it's the worst thing that has ever plagued your life!"

I pursed my lips and inhaled deeply; I didn't want to raise my voice at her, but she had hit a nerve.

"It's hurt me more than you could ever know! You've never had anyone abandon you for someone or something better-"

Ruth stormed up to me, so we were standing with our chests almost touching. Her chin was up, and her dark eyes were flaming.

"You think just because you had a rough start in life and bad luck, that gives you a free pass to be an entitled horse's ass with a piss-poor attitude. You profess your hatred for people as if they were all in on the murder of your family!" She spat, "This pity-party you belong to? It doesn't exist. So man-up and take responsibility for your actions and stop with all of this negativity. It's all rooted in your decision to drive Jess out, it's toxic, it's ruining your life, and your relationships!"

"You think I don't know that? I know what's happening, everyone is leaving me becau-" I tried to argue, but she didn't let me finish.

Ruth backed away and put her hands on the back of her head, giving me a hopeless look. Her forehead was wrinkled with anxiety, and tears were streaming down her face.

"Nobody left you! Nobody ever abandoned you! No one ever threw you aside for someone better! That's you making excuses for your abandonment issues. You pushed them away, you made them leave! They didn't want to be part of a low-end, abusive, one-sided, toxic friendship. They didn't want to feel unwanted and unloved, and it didn't take them long to realize they didn't need you. All you ever did was drain them, and you drained me. So now you can add me to your long list of traitors who just don't understand. Just know it's not me. It never was. It is all you. You told me you never wanted to lose me, but you did everything that said you didn't want to keep me. Just like Jess, I got tired of your actions to show up. I got tired of your lies. I got tired of waiting on you to become the person you're making no effort to become! I'm glad you drove Jess out, he deserved better anyway! Just like I do!"

With that, she jumped over the hitching rail, mounted her horse, and galloped off into the autumn night, never to be seen or heard from again….at least not from me.

I sat up in bed and rested my head in my hands. How many more people would I lose? It tore me up inside to lose Ruth, but my pride was too strong to let anyone know how much I missed her. Her humor, her concern for me. Always making sure I was doing well. I needed a good woman to keep me, and I now knew how much I took Ruth for granted. I wanted to reach out and apologize, but what good would it do?

So now I took to removing every reminder of her that existed in this house. A shirt she'd left, photos of us (they weren't cheap), books she'd given me, cards. I couldn't bear to have them around anymore. Funny though….every reminder of Jess still remained. His clothes, his bed, his valuables, photos, books, maps, saddles, boots. Everything he'd left, I'd let stay…so it could inevitably gather dust and clutter the house…and cause me pain whenever I looked at them.

I was a glutton for punishment, it seemed. It was insane that I could know I was self destructing, yet stay on the same course, not making any effort to change.

I was "a jerk who never had the guts to be anything other than what he is now". Also, I "never tried". Once again, where was the lie? I know I have issues, I know I'm not perfect. I've lured myself into a false sense of self-awareness. If I truly knew how dangerous my current state was, wouldn't I do everything in my power to change it? Then again, why would a man who has nothing to live for, try to better anything?

I threw my feet over the side of the bed and saw that I was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. I slumped my shoulders and sighed. God, I really was a wreck. Before I could decide my next move, I heard loud laughter from outside…a sound I hadn't heard in ages.

It was Andy!

I jumped up quickly and rushed outside, tripping over my own feet and shielding my eyes from the burning sun. I made my way around the barn and stood in front of the corral, aghast at what I beheld.

Andy was sitting upright, in some crudely fashioned wooden chair, strapped to a saddle. This contraption was atop none other than Cyclone, who was trotting around the corral, head bobbing and mane flapping in the gentle October wind. I was oddly mesmerized when I saw the look of pure joy on Andy's face. He was laughing, laughing! I had never seen him so happy. It felt like a bullet in my heart when I realized how long he'd been deprived of happiness.

This fantastical daydream of a scene unfolding before me finally hit my sensible side and I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

This was dangerous! Andy's spine was damaged, the jarring movement of the horse would no doubt cause further damage. I had to stop this.

"Andy!" I screamed, leaping over the corral gate. I caught Jonesy and Amos off guard with my sudden shouting, and they stood dumbfounded, unsure of how to react.

I ran towards Cyclone, who offered to rear. I grabbed onto the reins and threw my weight backwards, trying to bring the beast back down.

When my heart had stopped pounding and Cy had finally settled down, I stood straight up and glared at Andy.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demanded.

Andy's lower lip trembled and he shook his head. "I was just taking Cyclone for a ride," he said quietly, voice quivering.

I matched his quiet tone and held his gaze; tears were gathering in his eyes.

"No," I retorted, "It's too dangerous. Your injury!"

Andy furrowed his brow and held the reins tighter.

"Please….Please Slim," he begged, "Don't take this away from me."

At this point, Jonesy and Amos were in the corral, standing next to me. Their stances were hostile and I turned to them briefly.

"Butt out Slim!" Amos snapped.

I squared my shoulders; who did this bum think he was talking to? This was my ranch, he was the one who needed to "butt out".

"You don't understand," I argued, "The doctor said Andy needed to refrain from any strenuous activities!"

Jonesy scowled and clenched his fists. "What more could happen to Andy? The poor kid can't walk, the worst that could happen is that he actually enjoys himself and smiles for the first time in forever. God forbid he find a light in this hellhole you've created, Slim!"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. They were challenging me? Andy was my brother, I was the only one who truly knew what was best for him. I couldn't stand the thought of anything else degrading his quality of life. Sure, riding Cyclone was a treat for Andy, but too much was at risk.

"Get him down from there," I ordered.

Andy pursed his lips and held in a sob. Amos crossed his arms and stood his ground.

"Now!" I yelled.

Before any of us could move, Andy let out a wild holler and flicked the reins. Cyclone lurched forward and ran straight for the corral gate. All three of us jumped out of the way and watched from the ground as the mighty palomino cleared the fence in one swift jump. He landed gracefully on the other side and ran up the road and into the countryside, Andy hollering the whole way.

In my state of shock, I just laid on the ground, even as Amos and Jonesy were on their feet and alert, watching the trail of dust dissipate as Cy's outline got smaller and smaller in the distance.

I slowly got to my feet and stared after them. Nightfall was coming, and Andy would never survive the cold. October nights were murder, and I had to find them before the cold did.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Ayo sorry for the delay, high school stuff has kept me kinda busy lol. Trying to get back on track to graduate on time, so I took a break from FFnet for awhile, which included all recreational writing, unfortunately. I'm still super psyched on finishing this, it's just taking longer than i planned. Sorry about that :/ Please PM me any corrections or suggestions on this chapter._

I flicked the reins rapidly, urging Cyclone on. I could hear his breath coming out in quick, strained huffs; his shoulders rippled and his legs glided effortlessly across the ground. I rocked back and forth in Jonesy's contraption, precariously balanced on my steed's broad back. I was tense, my teeth clenched and my arms pressed close to me as I gripped the reins in my sweaty hands. If I fell, I was as good as dead. I was a rag doll from the waist down. I'd have to drag my tired, broken body back to the ranch, and I knew there was no way in heaven or on earth that I'd be able to manage such a feat. So I prayed to God I'd stay securely seated.

Cyclone cantered viciously among the trees, dodging rocks and brambles, his memory of our rides guiding him through the overgrown trails. His hoof beats lulled me into a void-like state, and like so many times within the past year, nothing felt real. The pines were a green blur, rushing past, much like my childhood. The gray sky above, storm clouds gathering, a seemingly perpetual darkness. Was the sky ever blue? Was my mind ever clear from the raging storm of emotions that I continued to experience? I took a risk, and closed my eyes. Perhaps it wasn't a risk at all. If I fell to my death, did it really matter? I had little to live for anyway. Each day was the same. Everything was gray. The color in my life was gone. Icky, gray, nothingness. I was stuck in a miserable reality, a reality where one cannot even imagine an escape. I wanted to look at my problems objectively, gain a new perspective. Try and find a solution, maybe. I knew very well what the solution was: regaining the use of my legs….and finding a way to bring Jess home. Was that too much to ask? I had received little to no support from Slim, and he promised he'd be there for me. That's what brothers do; they have your back when no one else does. Every time I thought of my older brother's selfish ways, I became angry and frustrated.

Sometimes, I was too drained to even feel anything. I wanted to cry, so many times. But the tears wouldn't come. Sleep would escape me. Everything I ate, it was bland. I decided that I would much rather die than suffer this life. I had completely lost my lust for life. I never thought that it would come to this.

Suddenly, a thunderclap shook me back to my senses, and I was now aware of how dark it had become. I could feel the bitter cold of October cut through my clothes like a knife. It wasn't long before my face became numb, and my eyes stung. I loosened my grip on the reins and Cyclone slowed to a trot. He emerged from the woods onto a grassy hill, overlooking the valley below. I could see a front coming through and I knew it was a really bad time to be out and about. I had to find shelter, fast.

L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*

"-If you would just listen, just for once, this wouldn't have happened!" I nagged poor ol' Slim. Slim whipped around from saddling his horse to face me, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded, taking a step towards me.

"I was thinking of Andy's well-bein!" I shot back, standing akimbo. Slim had absolutely no clue how destructive he was being towards himself and namely, Andy.

"His well-being?" Slim echoed incredulously, "you could've killed him! Now he's out in the woods all by himself, a front is coming through, it's getting dark, and you think what you were doing was helping? Jonesy, the spiders must've built cobwebs in the empty corners of your mind!"

I shook my head as Slim turned back around to finish saddling Alamo. He tightened the girthstrap, gave it a good tug, and lead his horse outside. I followed closely and called out to him.

"Slim, please listen to what I have to say," I asked firmly, letting him know that I wasn't going to let this go so easily.

Slim mounted his steed and sighed, not looking back at me. He looked down, thoughtful it seemed, and then slowly turned his horse around to face me. His lips were still pressed together in frustration and his eyes were glaring.

"Make it quick, we're burning daylight," he snapped back, eyes not leaving me.

I inhaled deeply and walked towards Slim's horse, grabbing the reins lightly to ensure he wouldn't try and leave in the middle of what was about to be one of my longest rants.

"I was doin' Andy a service," I started, "The poor kid does nothin physically challengin to him! He needs to get out and exercise to the best of his ability. Now I know what the doc said, he needs to stay immobile, but heck, he gave those instructions months ago. The way I figure it, what worked six months ago, might not be the best thing to do now. Andy is still growin', still healin', inside and out. The last thing a growin' boy needs is to be cooped up. At this point, I don't really see how gettin up on a horse is gonna do him any harm. I ain't no Doc Sweeny, but when I stay in bed instead of movin' around and gettin fresh air, I find it does nothin' but make me all stiff in my joints. Movin' around is the best thing for me when I'm ailin' and I think it's what's best for Andy. It could very well be the thing he needs. Even if he never gets back on his feet, the least we can do is try. I refuse to believe that that boy will never walk again. We have to try. That's all I'm sayin' Slim. Now I can't help that boy all on my own. I need you to make an effort to understand and cooperate with me and him. That's all I ask."

Slim broke eye contact with me and shifted in the saddle a bit. He looked off into the distance, chewing his lower lip, mulling my words over. He exhaled slowly and glanced back at me.

I decided to break the silence, "I want what's best for Andy. I know you do too, Slim. I know you can't change the past. I know you can't fix the mistakes you've made, or bring Jess back, or heal Andy's hurt. But I do know that you are capable of movin forward. When you really put yourself to it, you can do almost anythin. Back then, when everything seemed hopeless, you were the one supplying us with hope. I don't know why you've been doin the things you have lately. I know you'll never be the same ol' Slim you used to be. But that doesn't mean that your change can't be for the better. People change, but change isn't always a bad thing. You can make the best out of this situation. Please don't shut me out. Don't shut Andy out. We want to help you, and for you to help us. You pushin' everyone away and bein' stubborn doesn't help anyone. We can move forward, we can get out of this hellhole you've helped to create. Just open up, and accept that I don't mean neither you or Andy any harm. Please."

Slim's forehead creased in anxiety, and I could tell my words were finally chippin' away at all the walls he'd built. I was hopin' that he would open up and let out all the feelings he'd been bottlin up, finally express his emotions in a less destructive way. But he just nodded and looked away.

"I understand what you're saying. At the same time, change can't happen overnight. I need space, I need time, I need to gather some energy for this. What you're proposing is a long road. I can't travel it until I find Andy, safe. I promise we'll talk about this some more. But my brother is out there, cold, alone, and helpless. I want so badly for things to be different. I want things to go back to the way they were. But they wont ever. Because Jess did this. He tore us apart, he made my life harder than it should've been. He saw what he did to me, to Andy. You can't expect me to bounce back after something like that," Slim finished.

I rubbed my brow and sighed.

"It happened over a year and a half ago, that's plenty of time to bounce back, Slim. You're just in a pity-party. I know you've been hurt, but you can't let that hurt define you. You are Slim Sherman, you are your own person. You are not what people think, you are not your mistakes, you are not the bad things that have happened to you. I don't want to see you become half the man I know you're capable of bein-"

Slim cut me off, "Hurt like that lasts a lifetime. I will carry it around with me for as long as I live. You can't begin to understand what I've been through, and don't even try. You think everything is easy, you think I should be just like you, and not give a tinker's damn, but it effects me more than anyone could even fathom!"

I stifled a grin and raised my chin defiantly towards Slim. I cracked him like an egg. This was the start of him opening up to me. The first step to solvin' a problem was acknowledging that there was one. The more Slim was able to talk about his problems, the closer I'd be to understandin' just what was goin' through his head, and the closer I was to helping him recover.

"I don't understand. I doubt I ever will. Jess was a fundamental part of our lives. But you knew this would happen eventually. He was like the wind; he'd blow in and out again. Anyways, Jess was one person. An important person, none the less, but you can't let what happened with him to ruin you and Andy's future. Okay?"

Slim nodded again, I could see his eyes misting. "We'll continue this discussion later, I have to find Andy. Have supper ready for us by the time we get back."

I knew Slim had heard what I'd said, and understood; he just needed time to think.

"Alrighty," I replied, letting him off the hook…for now. Slim flicked the reins and spurred Alamo on, galloping up the road, into the hills, and out of sight. I hoped he would find Andy safe.

L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L*L**L*L*L

"Do you ever think you should go back?" Josh asked me. I jerked my head up from my breakfast of grits and gave him an incredulous look.

"Weren't you listening at all?" I demanded, "You know why I can't do that."

Josh stretched out and stood up, grabbing the coffee pot and tossing what was left, along with the grounds, into the bushes outside of the clearing. He sat back down, resting the pot near the fire and leaning back against a log. He rubbed his jaw with one hand and let out a sigh.

"I know that uh, Slim…Slim sounded angry. Just pure aggressive energy. Everything he said, he would've said to anyone else if you hadn't been there. I've dealt with guys like that, their emotions, they come in bursts. They always regret it later. I wouldn't take any of what he said at face value. Just throwin that out there."

This was a perspective I had considered multiple times, and abandoned. But now that I had someone else's input, it seemed more valid to me. But those things that were said…I couldn't just force myself to forget them on the spot. Understanding why they were said didn't make them any less real to me.

"Maybe," I muttered, dumping out the last of my grits onto the dirt.

Josh got up again and started putting his camp equipment away. I got up as well, helping him out. He gave me a curt nod as a thank you, and finished loading his saddlebags. I doused the fire and ducked under the makeshift rope hitching-post. Josh had apparently courteously grabbed my horse for me while I was out, and I turned to him.

"Hey uh," I started awkwardly, "Thanks for saving my bacon back there. I'm beholdin' to ya."

Josh paused whilst saddling his horse and squinted, seemingly confused, but then nodded again and shrugged it off.

"Oh yeah, sure. No problem," he assured me, once again not making eye contact. He flipped the stirrup down after he finished adjusting the strap and untied his horse. I did the same and mounted up. Josh gave me a wary look for a moment and scratched his head.

"I uh, have to get goin. I'm hot on the trail of some real bad guys, and I'm losing time as we speak so-"

In an impulsive last second decision, I blurted out, "I'd like to tag along, if that's alright with you."

Josh cringed and shifted nervously in his saddle.

"Yeah uh, I'm all for people helping me out and what not, but y'see I don't really wanna split the reward money with ya soooo…"

I shook my head, "Don't worry about it, I just…want to help, no charge."

Josh gave me a dubious look and scratched his head again.

"Okay, but I've gotta lay down some ground rules. I don't think you quite understand the ins and outs of bounty hunting, so I have to make sure you're not gonna be a liability to me on the hunt."

I put my hands up, palms out, as a sign of cooperation. I dropped them, back down and shrugged.

"Sounds good to me."

Josh huffed, and flicked the reins, urging his horse forward.

"Alrighty, we'll discuss it as we go, we're wasting time."


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: If you're interested in learning about the delay, check my profile. Thank you so much to everyone who's been in my DMs, encouraging me, and praying for me. It's what I need right now._

Rain pelted me in the face as I struggled to follow Cyclone's hoof prints. The rain came down harder with each passing minute, blurring the hoof prints and dissolving them into nothing but muddy indentations. Soon, the rainwater would wash all traces of Andy away.

I could feel panic slowly setting in, my heart racing faster as I realized I was losing the trail. Alamo puffed loudly and I suddenly became conscious of just how hard I was running him. It didn't matter, I was a man on a mission and Alamo rarely had to work up a sweat like this, one good run couldn't possibly hurt him. The canopy of pine trees above me started thinning and I looked up, watching the dark storm clouds swirl ominously. We emerged from the woods and looked out onto the farthest pasture from our property. My eyes scanned the tall grass and I made out a darkened area where the dry grass had been flattened.

Andy.

I urged Alamo forward, cautiously following the trail; I knew very well how many abrupt drop-offs there were in this pasture. We'd lost many a steer in this one, falling to their deaths in the most terrifying way possible. I prayed to God that the same fate hadn't befallen Andy. I cursed him out under my breath, ready to clean his plow for running off. He was mad at me, (rightfully so, I lamented) but he sure did have a way of making things difficult. Since when did running away from your problems ever solve them? In all honesty, I didn't really believe I'd end up scolding him, I just wanted him to be okay. I was too scared to be mad at that point.

I jerked my head up as I heard an unusual noise through the racket of the raging storm. I pulled Alamo to a halt and listened carefully. It sounded mournful, like a wounded animal. Was it…? Sobbing?

Oh my god, Andy!

I followed the sound of his wailing into the woods on the other side of the pasture. As I approached his hunched over figure in the grass beneath a ponderosa, I spotted Jonesy's contraption laying haphazardly in the grass, visibly broken. Cyclone was nowhere to be found.

Rain soaked my jacket and my hat as I quickly dismounted and ran over to my distraught brother. He looked okay from a distance, but when I finally found myself kneeling in front of him, I realized his face was scratched and bloody.

"Andy," I cried out, "Say something, boy. Are you okay? What were you thinking, running off like that, you could've been killed!"

Andy looked up at me, tears in his eyes and staining his gaunt face. His chin trembled and his teeth were clenched. He tried to speak, but he kept shaking and crying.

I grabbed his shoulders and held him steady.

"Hey," I said gently, "Hey, it's okay Andy. Just calm down, take a deep breath. You're okay. It's alright. I'm not mad at you."

He finally uttered a few words, broken, somewhat incoherent. "Cy…cy-cyclone. He..he g-got scared…of the th-thunder an he, an he…he dusted m-me and I lost him."

Oh boy, a lost horse. One of our favorite steeds no less. Well, now was not the time to worry about the spirited animal. He'd keep himself safe in the meantime.

"Andy, it's okay," I reassured him, "Cyclone will come back. He knows where home is. Don't worry about him."

"Its all my fault," Andy sobbed.

I sighed and hoisted him up, carrying him like a tired toddler towards Alamo. I placed him in the saddle and held him in place, brushing the rain and tears from his face; he'd lost his hat as well and had nothing to shield his face from the storm. I grabbed my own stetson from my head and placed it on his, looking him in the eyes.

"Listen to me," I started, raising my voice to make myself heard over the wind, "None of this is your fault. You were only reacting to my poor decisions. If anything, I caused this. Jonesy spoke some real sense into me back there and he's right. About everything."

Andy steadied himself and held my stern gaze. I could tell he was mulling over the things I said. He never used to do that. He'd always take everything I said the second I said it, he'd never have to weigh whether or not I was telling the truth. That's what I did to him. I challenged his trust in me, his faith, his sense of belonging, his bond with his own family. Because I was so, so selfish. I shut him out, I lied to him, I became bitter, negative. All he wanted was someone to lean on and turn to in a dark time and I wasn't someone he could open up to. Me…his own brother. I then understood just how much he was hurting. He'd been hurt physically, unable to walk and do the things that he used to love, and me treating him like something inhuman had hurt him emotionally as well. How could I have let my own issues with Jess cause me to neglect my brother like this? Lost in my own personal hell, while he was living in one all by himself, something no boy his age should have to go through. I could lament for ages, but there's no point in pretending I can go back and change the things I've done. The best I could do was move forward, and change things for the better. Show Andy and everyone else that I can do so much better. That I'm still the person they used to believe in…I'm Slim fucking Sherman and I'm gonna fix this mess.

"Andy," I started again, "I'm here for you. For real this time. I've been a horrible older brother, but I promise you, things are going to change around here. I'm gonna try my best to do whatever I can to make things better for you, for everyone. Pride is a hell of a drug and I never should have held onto it for so long. I want you to be happy, I want you to walk again."

Andy nodded, but as I spoke the latter, he shook his head.

"Slim," he choked out, "I'm never going to walk again."

"Bull," I said shortly, "Jonesy has a surefire way for you to regain movement in your legs. He had the right idea, having you ride Cyclone. You need to get out, you need to move, you need to be happy. There's risks involved with everything, but if you have to do this to get better, I'll help you every step of the way."

Andy looked at me steadily, and pursed his lips. "Okay," he murmured.

I mounted behind him and grabbed the reins, turning Alamo towards home.

"Come on," I said, "We've got work to do."


End file.
